Pandora's Prison
by cantkeepmymusictomyself
Summary: Pandora has been locked inside the box with the evils of the world. A young man finds the box and unwittingly releases all of them. They must find a way to put everything back the way it belongs.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its characters. All references to historical persons are purely for entertainment value and should not be taken as exact representations of themselves.

Pandora's Prison

By Landon Schwausch

Prologue

Wisdom. Beauty. Clothing. Speech. These were the gifts that the gods gave to me when Hephaestus forged me into life. But they also gave me a curse: curiosity.

Of course, these gifts and the curse were given to all humans and have been ever since. But only once has the curse of curiosity had such long-lasting effects.

For the gods…who am I kidding, it was always Zeus, the meddlesome trickster. He gave my husband Epimetheus and I a gift as well. It was a jar. He warned us never to open it.

Well, let me tell you that if you ever tell someone not to do something, the chances are that they will do it. Not necessarily out of any sense of maliciousness or defiance or anything like that. It will always come back down to that blasted curse of curiosity.

It was such a pretty jar too…


	2. In Which we Meet Miss Jones

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who nor any of its characters, nor the characters from any other series that may come along. This is my first story to publish on here, so please read/review!

Chapter 1

In Which we Meet Miss Jones

BANG!

Sean awoke with a start. The loud noise had come from outside. He got out of bed and walked to the window. He peeked through the blinds, but could see nothing unusual except a faint blue light coming from the smoldering wreckage of his neighbor's house.

He sighed. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson must have left some sort of experiment running in their basement when they evacuated after their last experiment had blown out three walls and half the roof.

"Evacuated," Sean muttered to himself. "Yeah, right."

That was the official story. Sean strongly suspected something more sinister. You know, the standard 'taken into custody by government officials' excuse would not have gone over well in the local paper. The Thompsons were highly respected in the community, mostly due to, rather than in spite of, their several eccentricities. Small explosions had been known to be heard in the vicinity of their house, and usually contained in their basement laboratory, which was perfectly safe. The experiment that had obliterated most of their home had been done in the living room, where, as Derek Thompson said, would come closer to real world data than in a laboratory.

Sean had thought that the government officials had taken all of the Thompsons experiments into custody as well. At least, that's what he had assumed from all of the moving trucks and vans that had had things loaded into them the day after the unfortunate living room explosion.

"They must have missed one," Sean said to himself. He shrugged, glancing around the neighborhood through the window to see if anybody else had taken notice. Miss Jones across the street had pulled her front room shades completely open, to Sean's delight. He fancied Miss Jones. She was new in the neighborhood and wasn't accustomed to loud explosions. This one must have startled her out of her sleep as well, but to Sean's pleasure, he could see that she slept in the nude.

She must not have noticed or cared that she was exposing herself. Her mouth was wide open, staring at the blue light, which Sean noticed out of the corner of his eye, was glowing brighter and dimmer at regular intervals.

He licked his lips. He was slightly curious about the blue light, but passed it off as an old experiment. He looked down at himself and noticed that he was fully at attention.

"Shit," he muttered. He glanced back at Miss Jones, shook his head, and then closed the blinds again. He lay back in bed and pleasured himself.

After he finished, he went to the bathroom to take a quick shower to clean himself up.

He went back into his bedroom and looked through the window again. He could see Miss Jones again, clothed this time in blue jeans, a red tank top, and a red leather jacket. She was walking across the street towards the Thompson's house, talking on a cell phone. He wished he could lip-read better. He peered closer, trying to make out what she might have been saying.

As if she could sense him staring, she stopped suddenly and looked over at his house. He quickly stepped away from the window, letting the blinds go back into place quickly. The movement had surely caught her eye.

"Damn it," he said. Now she would think he was a peeping tom. Maybe if he just got into bed and went to sleep, he could wake up in the morning and think it all a dream.

He got into bed again, preparing to start counting sheep, when he heard a sharp knock at his door. Then three more knocks in quick succession.

He sighed. She had caught him. There was no point in denying it by ignoring her, as she would just confront him about it later. Better to get it out in the open right away.

He pulled on his robe and wrapped the sash around himself, hoping it would hide his still stiff erection. He walked downstairs to the front door and looked through the peephole.

He sighed, leaning his head against the door.

"Sean?" he heard her say through the door. Mmm, her voice was one of his favorite things about her. She was from London, and her English accent had turned him on from the moment he had first spoken to her.

"Sean?" she said again. "I know you're in there, probably listening to me on the other side of the door, I expect." He also adored how brilliant she was.

"Just open the door; I need to talk to you."

He sighed again. There was nothing for it now. He opened the door.

She grabbed his hand forcefully. "Come on," she said. "You're coming with me."

"I didn't mean to spy on you," he said pleadingly. "I heard the noise and looked out my window, and there you were."

"I'm not worried about that," she said. "I'm flattered, actually, really." She blushed, which was shocking to see, as she was black. Sean had never seen a black person blush before, and didn't know it was possible to notice.

"This is about the noise," she said, and Sean realized that she was pulling him not towards her house, but towards the Thompsons'.

"What about it?" he asked. She was pulling him rather uncomfortably; jerking his arm in a forceful way, as though she were in a very big hurry to get somewhere.

Her phone rang at that point. "Hold on," she said, and stopped. He rubbed his wrist where she had been holding him.

"Hello?" she said when she had opened the phone up. "Yes, Doctor. I've got him with me." She glanced at Sean out of the corner of her eye. "No, I don't think he knows anything about it." There was a pause. "Well, of course he shouldn't, it's still in his future. I only know as much as I do because it's already in my past, and yours." There was another, longer pause, during which Miss Jones looked very uncomfortable. "Are you sure that's safe, Doctor? Giving that to him? No offense," she said, looking at Sean furtively. "It's just, this is powerful stuff we're dealing with, and we don't know how far we can trust you, regardless of what you've done in our past. Your future is still being written, so you could change it at any time."

Sean was dumbfounded. "What are you talking about? What do you mean, your past, my future? Who are you talking to, anyway?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it right now," she said. "You'll find out soon enough, I expect."

She dug in her bag, sticking her hand farther in than he would have expected, considering how small the bag was. It came out with what looked like a large leather bracelet with a large calculator. She fiddled with it for a minute while Sean stood there gaping. He still had no idea what was going on.

She brought her phone back to her ear. "Yes, I've got it. Yes, I know how to program it to follow the evils. Well, most of them. The last one I know you said could only be tracked through history." She looked back at Sean. "I'm sorry about that, but she's the mother of all evils, and you can't get to her any other way." She turned away from him, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Does he really have to open it?" There was a long pause. Her shoulders sagged. "Yeah, fixed points in time, I know. I wish there could be another way though." Her eyes ran over Sean. "He's so cute and innocent, and I'm afraid of what he might turn into if he does this." There was another pause. She nodded. "If you insist," she said. She hung up and turned back to Sean.

"Come on," she said, putting the phone away. "Let's get this over with." She held out her hand and he took it.

He was willing to follow her anywhere now. She had called him cute. Everything that would come later was meaningless.

She led him by the hand into the Thompsons' house, which wasn't difficult, due to the aforementioned living room explosion.

This was the first time he had actually been inside their house. He had never really been afraid of it before, but there had been a certain stigma around entering it. Legend around town had said that those who entered the Thompsons' house, apart from the Thompsons, never came back out.

Sean didn't think about any of these misgivings as they walked towards the giant hole in the middle of the living room floor. He was too focused on the warmth of Miss Jones' hand.

He paused in his thoughts. He only knew her by her last name, and that was only because of the name on her mailbox. He turned to her and was about to ask her what her first name was when she lowered herself down into the hole.

"It's all right," she told him, seeing the look on his face. "It's not that far down; you can just follow after me."

He shrugged and did as he was told. He dropped down into the hole, which, while admittedly not being as far as he had expected, was still farther than he was comfortable with. He landed painfully on the ground below; his right ankle had twisted badly.

He fell down hard at that point. Miss Jones had landed with what appeared to be well-practiced grace and ease, and she came over to look at his injured ankle instantly.

"It's all right," she said kindly. "I'm a doctor." She looked closely at the ankle, testing it gently. He winced.

She nodded. "It's going to be fine, Sean. It's just sprained right now." She reached in her bag and pulled out a roll of bandages. "I'm going to make a splint for it now. Let me know if I wrap it too tightly."

She bound his ankle and foot in the bandages and stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I'm not used to doing my job as a doctor when I'm working for the Doctor," she said cryptically. "It makes for a nice change of pace, and it's good to keep in practice." She reached down to help him up. He stood and gingerly put some weight on the foot. It didn't hurt quite so bad, but it throbbed awfully.

"It'll have to do for now until we can get it X-rayed," she said.

Sean attempted a joke. "You mean you don't have one of those hidden in that bag of yours?"

She smiled. "No, the radiation would have disrupted the temporal dampers on the vortex manipulator."

He laughed, wondering what on earth she had just said and whether or not she had been joking. He had a funny feeling she was serious, whatever it meant.

"Here," she said, offering her arm. "You can lean on me for a bit."

He put his arm around her and together they turned and moved towards the source of the pulsating light. It was coming from around a corner.

They rounded the corner and there it was. Granted, Sean had no idea what it was. All he saw was the light, dim though it was.

Miss Jones stepped forward, forcing him along with her. As they neared the light, Sean began to see that the object was not simply just a light. The light was coming from a small orange box, about the size of a music box. Why an orange box would emit a blue glowing light was beyond Sean's comprehension.

Miss Jones, however, did not seem phased by the colors. There was a look severe apprehension on her face as she gazed at the box. She looked at Sean.

"Well," she said. "Go ahead, take a look at it."

He leaned forward slightly, his brow knotted. "What…what's in it?"

She shook her head. "I can't tell you that."

He picked it up gingerly. Or rather, he attempted to pick it up gingerly. It was heavier, much heavier, than it looked. He didn't think a box this small could weigh this much, no matter what was inside it. He used more strength and managed to lift it to his face.

It was a very plain box, except its latch and hinges were a shade of shocking violet. There was nothing else remarkable about it. He set it down and looked at Miss Jones.

"Is that it?" She nodded. "Did the Thompsons make this?" She shook her head.

"This is far beyond the Thompsons," she said. "We're going to need them though." She glanced back at the box, then back at Sean. "This only just fell here."

"So why did you bring me here?" he asked. He felt like he was getting to the bottom of a giant mystery. He didn't know how wrong he was. He was only about to be invited to take scrape the surface of it.

She hesitated, then set her face, as if the information she was about to impart was the gravest of news.

"You have to open it."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "What?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"Because you do open it," she said. "I wish you didn't, but I can't change this, no more than you can."

She started to back away.

"Where are you going?" he asked. He was beginning to become angry, not to mention a little bit scared.

She shook her head. "I can't stay," she said. "And I don't know if I'll ever see you again." She stopped, and then dug in her bag one last time. She pulled out the leather calculator bracelet. "It's dangerous to go alone. Take this." She handed it to him and helped him put it on his wrist.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It will help you," she said, starting to move away again. "That's all I can tell you now." She paused. "I don't know if I'll see you," she said again, "but you'll see me." She turned and climbed up the heap of rubble out of the hole.

"Wait!" he called as she had pulled herself up to ground level. She turned.

"Yes?" she said.

"Can you at least tell me your name?"

She smiled. "It's Martha," she said. "Martha Jones."

She turned and walked out of sight.

Sean sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. "Martha Jones," he muttered. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?" He looked at his bound-up ankle, which actually didn't even hurt anymore. He put some weight on it and found he could bear it.

He looked at the device on his wrist. It wasn't a calculator, but he could tell why he made that mistake. There was a regular numerical keypad, along with several symbols. At the top of the device there seemed to be kind of radar screen.

"No instruction manual?" he said to himself. "That's really helpful."

He turned back to the orange box, which was now glowing an even brighter blue than before. It seemed to respond to his proximity or his touch, as it glowed brighter the closer he was to it.

He picked it up again and it shone almost as though it was white. He didn't know what it was, but he felt something urging him to open it. It wasn't only what Martha had said about him having to open it. It was like the box itself wanted him to open it.

His hands acted without him telling them to. His hands placed the box down and moved to the latch. They pried open the latch. He began to struggle. He had a very bad feeling now. He didn't want to open the box. His hands wouldn't move away from it. It was as though it had magnetized his hands. They were completely out of his control.

He focused all of his thoughts on taking his hands away from the box, but it was too late. They swiftly opened the box. There was a mighty rush of something like wind, and then nothing.


	3. Pandora Awakens

Disclaimer: I still don't own Doctor Who or any of its characters. I had fun putting them into my story though!

Chapter 2  
Pandora Awakens

The first thing I remember is waking up next to a young man who was dressed very strangely. He appeared to be unconscious. I got up slowly, not wanting to startle him awake.

I looked around at my surroundings and could see a plain orange box with a violet latch and hinges. Other than the odd color, it seemed fairly ordinary. I moved over to look inside.  
I could not see anything. It was completely empty, and seemed much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. It seemed somewhat familiar, but I could not place why it did.  
I looked back at the man on the ground. Did he open it? What had been inside it?  
I could not wait around to find out the answers. I just knew that I had to get as far as I could from this place.  
I looked around and could see a hole above me. There was a pile of rubble next to it that I used to climb out. When I reached the top I turned to look at the man one last time.  
I sighed. There was no way I could have gotten him out on my own, and anyway, he was none of my concern. I was sure he would manage to take care of himself, and if not, so much the worse for him.  
I turned back and looked around. There were odd structures all around. The one I was in seemed to have been mostly destroyed. I stepped cautiously out onto the grass, which felt wonderful under my feet. As I observed my surroundings a bit more closely, I could see that all the structures were all very similar in design. They resembled houses, but so much more enclosed space. It made me long for home.  
Wait. What was that? I didn't remember my home. The thought came to me unbidden. I could not remember anything about my home, other than that it was similar to the structures around me, but more open. I could not remember anything else about where I was from.  
I looked down at my own body. I was clothed, fortunately. Even so, I felt very exposed and vulnerable. It felt...wrong, somehow. This whole place did, and the fact that I was in it.  
I could not worry about why I was here right now. I had to first focus on where I was. Then I could figure out the why. I hurried off across the grass, careful not to touch the black river that looked solid. It looked dangerous.  
No sooner had I thought this than a horseless chariot came zooming down the river much faster than I would have expected.  
Shit. Where were these images and memories coming from? I had to figure it out. I hurried off toward the lighted structures in the distance.  
I saw several more of the chariots speeding down more black rivers at speeds that Zeus himself would be envious of on the way. As I neared the lights, the chariots grew more frequent. As I neared the source of all the lights, I realized that the structures were not quite as big as I had first assumed, but they were releasing a lot of light. I had assumed they were all lanterns, but I could detect no fire in them when I got close enough to one to examine it. There seemed to be a thin piece of metal in each of the lanterns that the light was radiating from.

"It must be work of the gods," I thought to myself. "Hephaestus, no doubt." Another name unbidden from the recesses of my memory. Another question to be answered. I neared one of the buildings. It had a pair of lion statues in front of it. It had strange symbols on the wall, and to my amazement, I could understand them. "Public Library" it said. Someone came out of it clutching thick reams of paper bound together. It was a place of knowledge, of reading, of learning. This was where I was to begin my quest to understand myself.  
I approached what appeared to be the entrance. There were clear panes of glass covering it. "Caution: Automatic Door" it read above the glass. I stepped warily toward it. The glass panes suddenly parted of their own accord. "Hephaestus has surely been busy," I thought.  
As I stepped through the caution: automatic door, I looked around and was overwhelmed by the amount of bound reams of paper. And I was even more amazed at all the different colors of the bindings. I stepped towards one of the shelves holding these wonders and looked closely at a blue one in particular.  
"Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix". There was a picture of a boy raising a stick with a light coming from the tip. There were torches surrounding him, all glowing with blue fire. He had a lightning-shaped mark on his forehead.  
I wonder if Zeus did that, I thought. Poor boy. Although, at least he was alive. The last person I had known Zeus to mark with lightning had been reduced to ashes.  
Okay, that was enough. I had to find out who Zeus was. I couldn't keep remembering things that didn't make sense. I walked up to a person behind a short wall.  
"Excuse me," I said in a soft voice. "Can you tell me anything about Zeus?"  
"Mythology is on the back wall," she said. She glanced at me and looked away. She then slowly turned her face towards me again, as if she wasn't sure what she had seen.  
"You going to a costume party or something?" the woman asked.  
"I'm sorry?" I said, looking down at my clothing. It was what I had always worn. "I'm not sure what you mean."  
"Well, you're dressed in a toga," she said. When I still looked confused, her eyes lit up. "Oh, you must be an actress," she said. "Here, let me take you to what you're looking for."  
She took me gently by the arm and led me towards the back wall. She studied the shelves for a moment and then clapped her hands together. "Here we are," she said, pulling out a tome. "Greek Gods Revisited," she read as she handed it to me. "This should be what you need.  
I took it from her and looked at the picture on the front. There was an old but powerful-looking man with white hair and a beard. He was holding a lightning bolt. I suppose that must have been Zeus, but he looked all wrong, somehow.  
"Who is this?" I asked the helpful woman.  
"Ah," she said knowledgably, "that would be Zeus, the king of the gods." She smiled warmly at me. "If you need anything else, just let me know." She turned and walked back to where she had been seated.  
I took the book and sat down at a nearby table. I opened it and began to read. Little was I aware of all of the memories that would come flooding back then.


	4. Martha and the Doctor Reunited

Still don't own Doctor Who, or its characters. I also don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. I really like the idea of physical representations of the seven deadly sins. Hope you like my use of them!

As always, read and review!

Chapter 3  
Martha and the Doctor Reunited

Sean woke up with his head ringing. From the light outside, night had clearly passed into day.  
"Shit," he swore. "I must be late for work now." He stood up and had to grab the wall for balance as the blood rushed out of his head. "Whoa," he said. "Maybe I should take it easy for a bit after last night." It was that moment when he realized where he was.  
He looked around and it hit him that he was not in his bedroom. He was in a rubble-filled room and there was a big hole in the ceiling. The memories from the previous night came flooding back to him. "Damn," he said to himself as he remembered Miss Jones...Martha...standing naked in front of her window. "I wonder where she went." He looked up at the hole above him, gauging how high it was, and if he could actually climb out of it in his current state. He shook his head a couple of times and judged that he was fit enough to at least try.  
Then he remembered the box. He turned around and there it was on the floor behind him, tipped over on its back with the lid open.  
He approached it warily and looked inside. It was empty. It was then that he noticed it was no longer glowing. It wasn't even orange or violet or blue. It was the plainest piece of wood craftsmanship he had ever seen. It was just an ordinary box.  
"Huh," he grunted. He bent down to pick it up. It weighed as much as an ordinary box now too. Whatever had been inside before must have been extremely heavy or dense. He looked back at the hole. Yes, he thought, he could manage to climb the pile of rubble while holding the box.  
He walked over and carefully started up. He had to go slowly in case there were unstable pieces of concrete. As he neared the top, there was a small scare when the rock he was standing on gave way and he had to grab quickly onto the floor above him. He just managed to hang on long enough to gain another foothold. He put the box up on the floor above him and pulled himself using both arms. His legs scrabbled at the debris below, which gave way just as he rolled onto the dusty carpet above.  
"Well, that went well," he said to himself. He reached down and picked up the box.  
Part of him wanted to think that it had all been a dream, but he knew it wasn't so. The evidence for the reality lay in the fact that he had woken up exactly where he had blacked out when he opened the box. He closed and latched it now. It still made him uneasy, even though he did not know what exactly had come out of it but a huge blast of energy.  
As he looked at the floor, he noticed that there were bare footprints in the dust, and then the dusty trail leading out of the house. They couldn't have been Martha's, she had been wearing boots when he had seen her last night. So someone else had been down there with him and left before he had woken up. He followed them for a bit, but lost them when they reached the grass.  
Sean had never been much of a hunter, even when he had gone with his father every fall. His father had tried to teach him how to track and trap game, but he could never get it right. Bent blades of grass just evaded his gaze whenever he had tried, and he was useless at lashing together a trap.  
He sighed and stood up. He looked over at Martha's house. "Maybe I'll just go ask her what is going on," he thought.  
He walked towards her house, still clutching the box. As he drew nearer, he could hear the sounds of heavy things being thrown about and crashing into the walls inside. He held the box up, as if to use it as a weapon, and ran towards the door. It was unlocked. He threw it open and looked around. Everything was in disarray. Tables and chairs were overturned, and a light fixture was on the ground, the glass broken into what seemed like a hundred shards. He moved quickly to where he heard the noises coming from.  
"Martha!" he called out as he ran through the kitchen and into what appeared to be a living room. Inside the room were eight figures. Seven of them were surrounding one that was prone on the floor. It was Martha Jones.  
"Martha!" he cried. The seven figures whirled at the sound. Well, most of them whirled. There was a particularly fat one that moved slowly, and one that just moved slowly, as though the effort to move took a great effort, although it looked strong enough. The smallest figure hissed at him.  
They were humanoid, although they were covered in strange markings, and oddly dressed. One marking in particular was common on all of them, although it showed up in different places on their bodies. It looked like a snake biting its own tail.  
One figure, a woman, stepped away from the others towards him.  
"You would be wise to leave this place," she said. Her eyes were an intense shade of violet, the same color that the hinges had been. She glanced down. "But leave that behind with us," she said, gesturing at the box.  
"What do you want with this?" he asked, sounding braver than he felt. He glanced at Martha, and was horrified to see that she wasn't breathing. He swallowed hard. "It's just a silly old box."  
"That silly old box," she said with a cold smile, "is our ticket out of here and onto Olympus."  
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Olympus?" he said. "Do you mean Mount Olympus, home of the gods?"  
Her eyes narrowed, and the smile disappeared, revealing a snarl. "What could you know of the gods?" she asked icily. "You are just a mortal."  
He snorted. "I know that the gods aren't real," he said. "They're myths. Made-up legends to explain away the seasons."  
There was a cry from behind the woman. The fat one was sucking on his finger. "What does the human mean?" he asked.  
"He lies," said another voice. This one came from the figure with the long, spiky hair. "He knows nothing of them, only what he has heard told to him." The voice, and the person it belonged to, was androgynous. Sean couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. But it was full of hate; that much he could tell. "They're fairy tales to him," the person continued. "But they're real, all right. More real than the pathetic God this human does believe in."  
Sean's blood boiled at this. He had been brought up in a Christian family, and had questioned his faith in the past, but he knew what he believed. How dare this creature belittle his faith!  
"They never existed!" Sean shouted. He knew he had to get these things out of there somehow, and get Martha some kind of help, even if it was too late to save her life. Who knows what they would do to her if he left them alone.  
"The Greeks, the Romans, the Egyptians, the Norse…they needed something to believe in; they needed some explanation for all of the things that were happening in their lives. We now understand these things through the explanations of science."  
"Just because something can be explained through science," said the smallest figure, a little boy, "doesn't mean it wasn't caused by a higher power." He smirked. "Don't you believe the same thing about your God? This is not so far from that."  
Sean was about to retort when he heard a strange sound. It sounded like a strained breathing, but coming from a machine. His surroundings began to change, and the creatures were fading out of view. Fading into view was a big console and a very large room and what appeared to be steampunky, coral decorations. A funny looking man with long hair and a bow tie was running around the console. When everything had become completely solid around us, the man ran towards the prone figure of Martha.  
"Martha?" he said quietly, leaning over and touching her face. "Don't you do this to me now, please," he implored. He was British too, judging by his accent.  
She didn't move. The man pressed his ear close to her chin, listening for breath, and looking for a heartbeat on her chest. From the look on his face, he wasn't getting anything.  
He looked up at Sean, and there was fire in his eyes. "This is one of my friends," he said, and the anguish in his voice was palpable. "I swear, if you had anything to do with this, I will end you, and there will be no trace of your having ever existed."  
Sean could tell that the man meant it. "I didn't do anything to her," he said. "I promise. It was those...those things, out there."

The man ran to the console and pulled up a viewscreen that looked like a computer monitor. Outside they could see the things gathering around the room we were in. Sean didn't understand how they were in such a large space when the room that they were inside of was so small. Surely the house around us would have been destroyed by the sheer size of the space we are in, thought Sean to himself.  
"Oh no," said the man. "It's the Homunculi."  
Sean frowned. "What are homunculi?" he said.  
"They're mistakes," said the man. "They occur when someone wants to make himself pure and incapable of sin, according to the Christian bible." He paused and glared at the creatures. "Someone attempted and succeeded in removing the pieces of himself that were capable of the deadly sins. Lust, Envy, Sloth, Greed, Wrath, Pride, and Gluttony. But no human can truly exist without the capability to be evil. It's like a removal of free will. That's why we have to find out whoever created these monstrosities and send these things back inside him."  
"So these things," said Sean, "are pieces of a person's soul, essentially?"  
The man nodded. "And yes, a side effect of removing these things does, in fact, make one immortal. Just like Voldemort." He looked at Sean. "The reason is that when man first committed sin, the privilege of living forever was taken away from him. God said that if you eat from the tree, you would surely die. Now, He didn't say exactly when you would die, but they assumed it was an automatic thing, until the serpent twisted the words around."  
"Are you a Christian?" asked Sean.  
"I believe in Jesus Christ, yes," said the man. "Nice fellow. It's a shame, what happened to him. But it was a fixed point in time, so I couldn't do anything about it. I wouldn't have anyway, because I knew he'd be back a few days later."  
Sean blinked. Something clicked in him. "Fixed point in time," he said. He had heard Martha say those same words the night before. "Are you the doctor that Martha was talking to last night?"  
"Not sure what you're talking about," said the man. "I haven't heard from her in centuries. I'm the Doctor, nice to meet you. Hold on." The Doctor stopped and looked closely at Sean. "Who are you?"  
"I'm Sean," said Sean. "I live just across the street from here." He pointed in the direction of his house. "Martha had just moved in."

The Doctor frowned. "I keep track of all of my companions. I knew something was wrong just a few hours ago. As far as I am concerned, Sean," he said, angrily emphasizing the name, "Martha Jones isn't supposed to be here at all!"  
Sean held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "All right," he said cautiously. "I'm only telling you what I know." He looked around. "And what I don't know and am very confused about is, what the f*** is this thing?

"The Doctor pointed a finger imperiously in Sean's face, centimeters from his nose. "First of all, there's no need for the language. This is a children's show, after all. That should be bleeped out. Censors!" he called out.  
The censors noticed and went back to the script and bleeped out the foul word.  
"Thank you!" said the Doctor. He smiled at Sean. "I've got timey-wimey powers," he said, "so I'm allowed to do things like break the fourth wall. As for this thing," and he gestured his arms broadly around him, "this is my TARDIS. It stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space."  
"Oh, so that's why it's bigger on the inside?" said Sean skeptically.  
"Yup, that's right." The Doctor clapped his hands together. "The outside looks just like your standard police box from the 1950s in England, and it's stuck that way." He winked. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. It's made to blend in to any environment through the chameleon circuit, but that malfunctioned ages ago when I was here with my granddaughter."  
The information was overwhelming to Sean. "Okay, Doctor, what are you saying?" Then it hit him. "You're from a special organization in the government, aren't you? Where are the Thompsons?"  
The Doctor sighed and threw his hands up in exasperation. "I suppose that's the cool thing, is it? Having a time machine developed for the government?" He stuck his finger back in Sean's face. "I know what cool is, and the government is. Not. Cool!" He paused, his breathing a bit ragged. "Now bow ties," he said, adjusting his own, "bow ties are cool."  
"So you're not from the government?" asked Sean.  
"No, I'm not," said the Doctor smugly. "Though I did work for U.N.I.T. at one time. More on that later. Care to guess again?"  
Sean had no clue what U.N.I.T. was, but he thought for a moment, and he could only think of three other possibilities for the existence of a time machine.  
"You're either a private inventor, you're from the future, or you're an alien." He said these last words with as much skepticism as he could muster, though admittedly his doubts about the fantastical had been worn down due to the fantastical things he had already seen.  
The Doctor smiled proudly. "Two out of three's not bad," he said. "I didn't invent this," he said, beckoning to the TARDIS' console. "But my race did. I just borrowed it and escaped."  
"Escaped from what?" Sean asked, very interested now.  
The Doctor hesitated. "I'm a Time Lord, and there was a Time War with a race called the Daleks. I borrowed the TARDIS...well, I say I borrowed, I really stole it, or rather she stole me, long before the war. When it came about, I...can finish that story later. It's not a pleasant subject. Besides!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "We have more pressing matters to attend to!" He turned back to Martha. Sean followed him.  
"What about the homunculi?" he asked.  
"Oh, don't worry about them," said the Doctor. "They can't get in any more than the assembled hordes of Genghis Khan could, and believe me, they've tried." He stopped suddenly and shuddered.  
"What's the matter?" asked Sean, concerned.  
"Deja vu," said the Doctor, "which, for a time traveler, is a lot more important than the feeling of someone walking over your grave, and more literal than that as well." His eyes grew distant. "I've spoken those words before, or very nearly." Then he brightened. "That gives me an idea!"  
He jumped back to the console. "But Doctor," said Sean, "what about Martha?"  
"Oh, she's fine, don't worry," said the Doctor. "Or she will be." He started messing around with the controls and the TARDIS made the heavy breathing noise and the machinery started to move. "Mind you," he said, "the idea I have is quite mad, and probably won't work, and could in fact create a massive paradox that will destroy two-thirds of the universe."  
"What's that?" asked Sean, holding on to a railing as the TARDIS rocked about like the bridge on the Enterprise when it was under fire.  
"Crossing my own time stream!" shouted the Doctor, laughing. "I haven't done that in centuries! I just have to make sure I don't accidentally run into myself." he said seriously. "And if I do, I definitely can't touch myself. The consequences could be dire."  
Sean almost laughed, but the Doctor now looked very serious, and very dangerous. He nodded. "Let's do it," he said.  
The Doctor grinned. "Here we go!" And they landed.  
"Where are we?" asked Sean.  
"In orbit above the Earth," said the Doctor. "We're on Satellite Five, and a friend of mine is about to do the stupidest thing any of my friends has ever done, and I couldn't ever thank her enough for it, especially now."  
"Why?" asked Sean. "What did she do?"  
The Doctor smiled the happiest smile Sean had ever seen. "She's about to save Martha Jones' life." He bent down and picked Martha up. She lay limply in his arms. "Get the door for us now, Sean."  
Sean turned down around and saw a normal wooden door. He went to it and opened it.  
"EXTERMINATE!" a metallic voice cried. What looked like a large trash can which tapered out to the bottom and a whisk and a plunger sticking out like arms was right in front of the door. All of a sudden, a blue light shot out of a hole in the end of the whisk right towards Sean. Fortunately, the Doctor had thought ahead and turned on the force field around the TARDIS.  
In the next moment, the trash can disintegrated in front of their eyes.  
The Doctor was now grinning from ear to ear. "She's done it," he said. "Any moment now…" and he looked expectantly down at Martha in his arms.  
Sean stared at Martha as well, not knowing what he was waiting for. The Doctor had said she was fine, but the fact that she wasn't breathing when he first came upon her, and she still wasn't breathing now, really didn't convince him that she was, or would be, fine.  
"Um, Doctor?" he said, "I'm not a doctor, but I think she's gone."  
"Shut up!" said the Doctor. "She's going to be okay! Come on Martha Jones, don't you dare give up on me!"  
Her eyes opened suddenly and she gasped a huge breath, as if she had been holding it in for a long time. She smiled weakly at the Doctor. "Never," she said.  
The joy on the Doctor's face was palpable. "Oh, Martha," he said, kissing her forehead. "Don't you ever do that to me again." His eyes widened as though he just realized something terrifying. "And now you never will."  
Martha shook her head. "Don't be stupid, you daft man," she said, laughing as he set her down in a chair. "Jack told me about what happened to him a long time ago, and I knew that if I was dead, you would do whatever you could to bring me back, regardless of the consequences." She stood up shakily and crossed her arms. "So I decided to play a little joke on you."  
The Doctor furrowed his brow. "You mean," he started to say.  
"That I've been okay all this time?" she finished. "Yeah." She smiled. "I can hold my breath for a really long time, you know."  
The Doctor looked very angry now. "I have lost too much to be played with, Martha Jones!" He looked like he were about to shake her.  
She took a step back. "I'm sorry, Doctor," she said, clearly terrified. "I didn't mean to-"  
"Didn't mean to what?" said the Doctor. "Make my hearts stop altogether?" He looked at Sean at this. "Time Lords have two hearts. It's very handy in case one stops, but honestly, how do you humans handle running on just one?"  
He looked back at Martha, and the fire was back. She sat down, hard. "I'm sorry, Doctor."  
His gaze softened. "I know, Martha. But you have to understand. I'm the same person I was when I first met you, or very nearly. Do you know what I had to do to Donna?" She nodded. "What about the Ponds?"  
"Who are the Ponds?" asked Sean.  
"My best friends," said the Doctor, and his voice broke. "And I couldn't do anything to save them." He looked at Martha. "It was the angels, Martha."  
She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. "You couldn't go back to get them?"  
He shook his head. "Their time was locked away from me forever. But at least they were together." He sighed and leaned against a nearby railing.  
Martha stood up warily and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him, and he returned the hug as if she would slip away if he let go.  
"I'm sorry, Doctor," she whispered.  
Sean still wasn't sure what they were talking about, but he felt as though he were intruding on a private moment. He felt very uncomfortable.  
When the two of them finally let go, Martha smiled. "And a new face now I see! What's with the bow tie? Haven't seen you in one of those since Doctor Lazarus."  
"Bow ties are cool, Martha Jones," he said quietly, straightening it.  
She smiled. "You look younger, but your eyes are so much older now. You've seen more things than I can imagine, haven't you?" He nodded.  
"And so much that I want to forget," he muttered. He looked up at Sean and clapped his hands together. "Now we need to figure out what's going to happen with you and those homunculi."  
Sean stood up, not realizing that he had sat down. "Well, we have to know what they're going to do and where they're going to go, don't we?" He hesitated. "I let them out, so I'm responsible for putting them back where they came from." He wasn't sure that they had come from the box until that moment, but now he realized they couldn't have come from anywhere else.  
The Doctor nodded. "So, a good place to start would be the Jones residence, just to see if they're still there." He grinned at Martha. "Geronimo!"  
Her shoulders sagged. "What happened to 'allons'y'? I liked that word!" she said, almost whining.  
"Come along, Jones!" he said, and ran back into the TARDIS, Martha at his heels. The door had almost shut when Sean slipped inside.  
As it shut, Sean could swear he heard an American voice shouting the Doctor's name, and running footsteps. But he put it out of his mind. No time to worry about it now.  
The Doctor was busy at the console, turning various switches and knobs. He pulled a lever, and the TARDIS started moving again, leaving Satellite Five behind.


	5. Pandora Becomes Acquainted with her Past

Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who, or its characters. Shorter chapter this time. Read and review!

Chapter 4  
Pandora Becomes Acquainted with Her Past

The librarian tapped me on the shoulder. "Miss," she said. "I'm afraid the library is closing now. You'll have to leave."  
I sat up. I must have fallen asleep while reading. I had read through the book, and found more on the shelves nearby. They were all piled in front of me, and I had gone through all of them.  
It was very odd, the feeling that humanity thought of my world as mythology. I didn't know what it was like to feel not real until that moment.  
I knew now what had happened to me. What Zeus and the other gods had done. He had given me a box, and, knowing that I would have to open it based on the curiosity that he and the other gods had given me, told me not to open it. It was exactly the sort of thing a god would do, and judging by the books spread on the table in front of me, a very Zeus thing to do. He had apparently always been a bit of a trickster.  
I sighed and got up. "Do I need to put these back?" I asked the librarian. She shook her head.  
"I'll take care of that, dear," she said. "You go home and get some rest now."  
"Umm...," I started, "I'm not exactly from around here. I don't really have a place to stay."  
The librarian's eyebrows rose, and I read something like pity in her eyes. "Oh, you poor dear," she said. "You don't know anyone around here?" I shook my head. "Well, then you'll just have to come home with me, then." She looked at me sternly. "But just for tonight," she said. "Tomorrow we're going to find you a more permanent place, or get you home."  
I smiled. "Thank you ma'am."  
"Call me Agnes," she said. "It's my pleasure. Now let's get these books cleared up. That's the price of your rent tonight."  
I helped her gather the books up as quickly as I could, and we put them back on the shelves where I had gotten them from.  
"Now, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself," said Agnes as we walked outside. "Where are you originally from?"  
I hesitated. I couldn't really tell her where I was from. Or at least not when I was from. I decided on part of the truth. "I'm originally from Greece."  
Agnes smiled. "I knew I detected some Greek in you. Studying up on your heritage, I expect?" she asked, gesturing back towards the library.  
I nodded. "Something like that," I said.  
"And what brought you to America?" asked the librarian.  
"Well, it wasn't really a planned trip," I said hesitantly. "It just sort of happened on a whim I guess."  
Agnes nodded sagely. "Spontaneous," she said. "I like that. Those can make the best kinds of trips. Nothing planned or scheduled or scripted." She nodded at a white horseless chariot in front of us. "This is my car."  
She took out some shiny metallic objects and inserted one into a small hole in one of the doors and turned it. She opened the door and gestured me into it.  
I sat down, unsure of what was about to happen. She shut the door behind me and went around to the other side. She got in and inserted the metal object into another hole behind the wheel in front of her and turned it. There was a furious sound coming from the car.  
"Sorry about how loud the engine is," she said. "I've been meaning to have it looked at."  
She pulled a long strip of cloth that had a piece of metal on the end of it over her body and fit the metal into a slot next to her. "Don't forget to buckle up, sweetie," she said. I mimicked her and found a strap on my side, stretched it over my body and fastened it. It was very constricting.  
"What is your name, by the way?" asked Agnes. "You didn't mention it."  
"Pandora," I said without thinking. I silently cursed myself. Now she would grow suspicious. But Agnes didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about it.  
"Ah, your parents named you after the legend," she said. "I've always thought that was a beautiful name. It doesn't matter what that woman did back then. We choose our own destinies, as it were, and you can bring some good to that name yet!"  
I had never been more insulted. This woman had no idea what I had felt, and what I still feel. Those books of hers didn't get it all right, of course. For one, it wasn't a legend, it was my real life. Secondly, I was never even really given a choice in the matter. Zeus had dangled this wonderful thing in front of me, as if I were an ass he was trying to lead with a carrot. It was in the nature that the gods had given me to snatch at the carrot, figuratively speaking.  
'Thirdly, it wasn't even a box, it was a jar!' I thought indignantly. It wasn't even that pretty. There were no drawings on it, nobody had painted it. It was a clay pot. But it was just too damn alluring to ignore.  
In the end, I couldn't help myself, and if I hadn't opened it, Epimetheus was sure to have done, knowing his family.  
I scowled at the thought of Prometheus stealing fire from the gods. Then again, it was just another thing for the gods to tempt and taunt us with. It was something they had that we didn't. And it was cold. What else were supposed to do?  
I was so infuriated by this woman's ignorant words that my vision began to blur. I only just noticed a man out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were glinting wickedly as he bared his teeth.  
I shook my head to clear my vision and get a better look at him. When I looked his way again, he had vanished.  
I shook my head again. I must have been seeing things.  
I looked around again and was confused. I still didn't have any idea how I had gotten here. The last thing I remembered from Greece was opening the jar. I hadn't even found out what was inside of it.  
I considered this. I didn't know if I wanted to know what was inside it anymore. According to the books, it had been all of the evils in the world, and just inside was a tiny bit of Hope. I had no idea what that meant. I only knew that whatever had been inside it, it had gotten me into serious trouble.  
The whole world clearly hated me for opening it, and if I had only not let my curiosity get the better of me, the world would be a lot better off.  
I swore under my breath.  
"What was that, dear?" asked Agnes. I must have seemed very distant to her, I thought.  
"Nothing," I said. "I was just saying that I hope you're right about me restoring my name to greatness.  
"How did you get involved in the storing and sharing of knowledge?" I asked.  
"Hm?" Agnes seemed confused. "Oh, you mean the library. I've just always loved books and learning. So I studied as hard as I could to share the knowledge that I had and all the knowledge that I didn't have.  
We were traveling along the black rivers, which were just roads paved with tar. No horse could go this fast. The lights around us were flying by.  
"How far away do you live?" I asked, to take my mind off of the breakneck speed we were traveling at. I would have to get over it.  
"Oh, not far," said Agnes. "Just a couple of miles. Here we are," and she pulled up at a house not unlike the ones I had seen earlier that day. However, I couldn't find the house that was destroyed.  
I undid the strap across myself and looked for a way to get out. I then eyed Agnes as she grasped a handle and pulled it towards her. Her door opened. I found a similar handle on my door and did the same. I got out at the same time as her and followed her to the door.  
She still had the metal objects in her hands. She used a different one on the door at the front of the house.  
At that moment, there was the sound of another engine nearby. We both turned around.  
"Oh, that's my husband," said Agnes, smiling. "I can introduce you to him. You'll absolutely love him. He's a big fan of Greek cuisine."  
I smiled uncertainly. She must have seen, because she said, "Don't worry, he won't bite."  
Of course, I wasn't afraid of him. I just didn't know what Greeks were eating these days.


	6. The Only Way Forward

Disclaimer: I still don't own Doctor Who, Full Metal Alchemist, or any of their characters.

Read and review please!

Chapter Five  
The Only Way Forward

The TARDIS arrived outside of Martha's house. It didn't look any the worse for wear outside, but Sean knew that it didn't mean the inside would be quite as serene.  
The Doctor grabbed what looked like a large pen with a light and a grappling hook on the end and put it into his jacket pocket.  
"What's that?" asked Sean.  
"That's my sonic screwdriver," said the Doctor, getting it back out and pressing a button. It made an intense buzzing noise and glowed green.  
"Screwdriver?" said Sean incredulously. "What are you going to do, install some cabinets?"  
The Doctor frowned. "It's not a screwdriver," he said, obviously annoyed. "It's a sonic screwdriver. Sonic meaning sound," he said, and he pressed the button again. "Hear the sound? Sonic. Screwdriver."  
He was about to put it back in his jacket when Martha grabbed it.  
"Green?" she said. "I liked the old one. The blue was much more you."  
The Doctor looked hurt. "I'm still me, Martha Jones," he said. "Just a different me." His lip curled, as if he was sadly disgusted. "Besides, the old one got a bit fried when the Atraxi showed up looking for Prisoner Zero. She gave me a new one," he said, patting the TARDIS' console.  
Martha looked slightly mollified at this. "I'm sorry, Doctor," she said. "It's just...so weird, knowing it's you, but not seeing the you that I know."  
There was an awkward silence that stretched out for a bit too long.  
"Shall we go in?" said Sean, desperate to break the ice.  
"Yes," said the Doctor and Martha together. He looked at her and smiled. "Allons-y," he whispered. "For old time's sake."  
She smiled at him and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back. The tension was broken.  
They exited the TARDIS and strolled to the front door. "Ready?" said the Doctor. The other two nodded. He opened the door and entered in like a policeman, waving his sonic screwdriver about like a gun.  
"What are you doing, Doctor?" whispered Sean.  
"Scanning," he said. "What does it look like I'm doing?"  
Sean thought it best not to answer that. He simply followed the Doctor through the house to the living room, Martha close behind him.  
"Umm, Doctor?" said Martha as they arrived in the living room and looked around. "Are you sure we're in the right time?"  
For the room was spotless. Not in the fact that there was nothing in it, but in that it didn't seem as though there had been any sort of scuffle at all. It was as if it had just been cleaned.  
"Of course I'm sure," said the Doctor. "Look, I found this left by the homunculi," he said as he picked up a note.  
The three of them gathered around to read it.

"Sorry about the mess earlier. We understand that it's probably a huge inconvenience dealing with a dead friend and the cleaning of a house, so we made Sloth take care of the mess. He could stand to do a bit more work. We had to make sure Greed didn't take anything, because that would have just been rude. Envy and Gluttony we just had to leave outside so that Envy wouldn't break any of the valuables and Gluttony wouldn't eat everything in the refrigerator and pantry.  
We'll see you again soon,"  
Pride, Wrath, and Lust

"Well, that was decent of them," said Sean to break the silence.  
"Okay," said the Doctor. "That simplifies things a little."  
"What do you mean, Doctor?" asked Martha.  
"We have to leave, Martha," he said. "You and I."  
"What am I supposed to do?" asked Sean.  
"You must now clean up the mess that you made," said the Doctor. He looked truly upset about this fact. "And you must do it alone, at least for now."  
"I'm still not sure what you mean," he said.  
"You have to return the homunculi to Pandora's Box," said the Doctor. "They are now scattered throughout the Earth, manipulating the people around them into perceiving things the same way that they do."  
"You mean, now people are behaving wrathfully, enviously, lustfully, and all that?" asked Sean.  
"That's right," said the Doctor.  
"How is that different from how people normally are?" asked Martha.  
"Because now it's unbridled emotion," said the Doctor. "They have no way to fight against it. No amount of moral code will be enough to hold it back. They will have literally no choice but to behave in these fashions."  
Sean sat down on the floor, hard. "It's my fault," he said.  
"Yes, it is," said the Doctor, "but now you have a chance to rectify that mistake."  
"But Doctor," said Sean, "how am I supposed to resist them if their powers remove the choice of it?"  
The Doctor leaned close and took Sean's face in his hands. "You have to have hope, Sean," he said. "Find hope, and you will have the power to resist them."  
Sean was confused. "What does that mean?"  
"Trust me," said Martha, "that's as good as you're gonna get."  
"Okay," said Sean, "how do I find them?"  
"Search throughout history," said the Doctor. "You will know where they have been." He glanced at Martha. "We'll look for them too, but it's unlikely you'll cross our paths."  
"Why not?" asked Sean.  
"Because this is a time machine," said the Doctor, as though he were speaking to a five-year-old, not condescendingly, but pleasantly, like a grandfather. "And as we're not taking you with us, and there's no other time machine available to humans, you will have to find the places they have been and send us the coordinates."  
"How?" asked Sean.  
Martha handed Sean her cell phone. "Take my mobile," she said. "It can transmit signals anywhere in time and space. You'll be able to reach us. He's number ten on speed dial," she said, smiling at the Doctor.  
"You must not need me very much if I'm all the way down there," grumbled the Doctor. "And you never call."  
"I was over you, and I didn't really need you anymore," said Martha patiently. "I had it in case of emergencies. Which of course there have been many, but you're usually around when they happen, so you get them sorted before I can call."  
"How's Mr. Jones, then?" asked the Doctor.  
"Mickey?" said Martha. "He's with our son at the moment. I told him you needed me, and he understood. He always does."  
The Doctor's eyes lit up. "You've got a son?" he said. "That's brilliant. What did you name him? Will I blush?"  
"We named him Ricky Jake," she said. "You know why."  
The Doctor looked at the ground. "Yeah," he said softly. "I know."  
Sean watched this exchange a little impatiently. He felt like he was just an observer, but they wanted him to save the world.  
"So what will you do with the homunculi when you find them?" he asked. "I send you the coordinates, and you find them, and then what?"  
The Doctor took a breath, slow and deep. "We're going to send them back to you. It's up to you when they arrive."  
Sean pulled his sleeve up, which had been hiding the vortex manipulator underneath. "What about this?" he asked. "Can't I use this to find them? We can find them twice as quickly if I can go throughout time and space as well. Besides," he said, "who says they're only going to go into the past? They could mess around in the future as well."  
The Doctor looked dumbfounded. "I hadn't thought of that," he said honestly. "Maybe time is of such little importance to me, I forget that other people are stuck going the boring route."  
He looked at Sean. "Fine," he said. "We'll search the future, you search the past. We'll trap them as best we can until you can put them away for good."  
"One more question," said Sean. "How the fu...I mean, how the hell...can I say hell?" The Doctor nodded. "How the hell do I make this thing work?"  
The Doctor dug into his pockets for a bit, pulling out papers and pens, pins and buttons, and all sorts of odds and ends until he found what he was looking for. He handed the book to Sean.  
"Time Vortex Manipulator Manual," Sean read. "Well, if that isn't the most convenient thing in the world.  
"I wrote it," said the Doctor, a little too smugly.  
"In that case," chimed in Martha, "take all instructions with a grain of salt. You've seen how he flies this thing."  
"Oy!" said the Doctor. "I fly this thing perfectly fine." He straightened his bow tie. "And this thing has a name, but I only call her that when we're alone."  
"I won't ask," said Martha.  
"Where did you get the vortex manipulator, by the way?" asked Martha.  
Sean stared. "You gave it to me," he said. "You said I'd need it. That it was dangerous to go alone, and I should take it."  
"Did I say anything else?" she asked, clearly nonplussed about the fact that she hadn't been aware of giving it to him.  
He shrugged. "You said you wouldn't be seeing me again, but I'd be seeing you. And I'm looking at you now, and you at me, so what did you mean?"  
"It was just my future self," she said. "Time travel's like that, sometimes things don't always happen in the right order." She frowned. "I do hope I'm all right though." She shook her head. "Probably just went home," she said, smiling. Her eyes were wet. "I miss them.  
Even Sean didn't need to ask who she meant.


	7. The Blackout

Disclaimer: No owning by me of Doctor Who, Full Metal Alchemist, or any of their characters is real or implied. Any similarities to people, real or imaginary, is purely coincidental.

As always, read and review!

Chapter 6  
The Blackout

It turned out that Greek taste in food had not changed much over the course of the centuries, as I found out when Agnes' husband Charles made a special Greek meal in my honor.  
"Do you drink wine, Pandora?" he asked.  
I nodded. "Yes," I said meekly, hoping that I wasn't imposing.  
"White or red?" he asked.  
"Oh, red, please," I said. We were sitting on a sofa in front of a warm crackling fireplace after dinner. Charles was very nice. Almost too nice, I thought, but I chalked it up to just being friendly and courteous to strangers, something that the gods were distinctly shoddy about doing for the people who prayed to them. I was proof of that.  
"Thank you," I said as he handed me a glass perfectly filled with wine. I inhaled the aroma and nearly fainted as I smelled the same scent I had smelled just before I had opened the jar. I took a tiny sip and smiled. "It's an excellent vintage, sir," I said.  
"Oh please, call me Charles," he said, smiling. "Are you connoisseur?" he asked indicating the wine in my hand.  
"Oh no, sir, I mean, Charles," I said. "I just know what I like. This has a very agreeable taste to my palette."  
"Do you own a vineyard back in Greece?" asked Agnes.  
I shook my head. I had, of course, had a vineyard, and servants to pick the grapes, and others to juice them and more servants to make sure that they fermented properly. But I imagined that this information was probably not going to be what they were looking for.  
"I don't own one myself, but my grandfather used to." I thought this to be a very acceptable and believable response, and shouldn't require any further explanation.  
"What happened to it?" asked Charles. "Did he pass away or sell it or what?  
I thought hard for a second. "I...I think he sold it. My father wanted it to stay in the family, but we weren't making enough money by making wine, so we just sold the land. The last I heard, they had built a highway through it." I was glad to have paid attention to Agnes and the road when she had been driving her car home. She had talked about how different the roads must be where I was from. But, as she said, all roads lead to Rome. I didn't want to talk about Rome. That place had been a sore subject all over Greece. And Zeus would never stop talking about how much better he was than Jupiter, and Aphrodite would hold beauty contests against Venus. It was ridiculously irritating.  
I must have grown distant again, because Agnes was speaking to me now.  
"Are you all right, dear?"  
I shook my head to clear it. "Yes, I'm fine," I said. "It must be the wine." I had barely drank any of it. "Is there a place where I could relieve myself?"  
Agnes got up and said, "Of course, there's a bathroom right through here, and we can get you cleaned up. You can wear some old pajamas of my daughter's to go to sleep in, you're just about her size."  
She led me to a room that had a bed. "This'll be your room tonight," she said. "Our daughter Clara is off traveling right now, and she won't mind." She dug in a chest of drawers and pulled out several articles of clothing. "Here you are," she said, and handed them to me.  
She then led me to the bathroom, where she left me. "I'll be just downstairs if you need anything." She gave me a warm smile and shut the door.  
I leaned against the countertop and stared at my reflection in the looking glass.  
"You're no Aphrodite, but you do have the gift of beauty," said a voice.  
I whipped my head around, searching for the voice. There was nobody there.  
"Oh, you're not going to be able to see me," it said. "Not unless I want to be seen. Right at this moment, I don't really much care to allow it." The voice had an evil tone to it. "Suffice it to say that my name is Greed. And I want everything. That's in my nature, of course, which is part of human nature. And you have been greedy in the past, haven't you?"  
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. "I've never been greedy for anything in my life, you coward! The gods gave me everything I could ever desire!"  
"Oh, did they indeed?" said the voice of Greed shrewdly. "Including knowledge?"  
"Athena herself gave me wisdom," I said proudly.  
"I didn't say anything about wisdom," said Greed. "I said knowledge. Particularly the knowledge of what was inside."  
"Inside what?" I replied defiantly, though I felt as though I already knew the answer.  
"The box, of course." There was a condescending smile in the voice now. "If you had known what was in the box beforehand, you wouldn't have even needed to open it, now would you?"  
"It was a jar," I said.  
"Box, jar, pithos, same difference, right?" His voice was definitely getting on my nerves now with the arrogant smirk that was in the tone. "The point is, you were so greedy for the knowledge that was inside it, that you had to open it yourself. Isn't that right?"  
"Shut up!" I cried, though I knew he was speaking the truth. I was greedy.  
"That's right," he said. "You're a very greedy woman. What else do you desire? Money? Power? Men? Women?" This last was with a definite lilt, as if he was wagging his eyebrows.  
"I want more wine," I said instantly. The words had come out before I had even thought them. But it was true.  
"Well, then, go on and take it," said Greed. "There's nothing stopping you."  
"But they're nice," I could hear a voice inside my head saying. "These people have taken me in and fed me. They gave me clothes and are letting me sleep in their house. I can't take advantage of them."  
"You're right," my mouth said. "I should be able to have whatever I want. They don't really need it."  
"That's right," said Greed. "You're the one out of place, and you deserve everything you desire." He had appeared beside me, grinning from ear to ear. His teeth were serrated like a shark's, and wickedly sharp. "I know you're in there right now, Pandora, and you're fighting. But it's pointless. I own you now. But at least I want what you want." The smile grew wider, which surprised me. It didn't look physically possible, or comfortable, for that matter. "The difference is," he continued, "I'm willing for you to do whatever it takes to get it."  
I nodded without meaning to. "I understand, Greed," my mouth said. "Can I at least change first?"  
"By all means," said Greed, looking slightly mollified. "Don't mind me, I'll just wait outside." He quietly opened the door and went out, closing the door behind him.  
I released a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. It seemed I was in control of myself for the moment, but I knew he was right outside where I would be within his power again when I stepped out. There were no windows for me to leave through that I could see, and even if there were, I was sure that his friends would more than likely be waiting outside to intercept me if I tried something that foolish.  
I took a shower, just to get away from feeling dirty about what I was about to do. I didn't want to take their wine. It was very good, but not good enough to steal. I toweled off and put on the clothes that Agnes had given me. They fit me rather well, I thought, admiring myself in the mirror.  
I took a deep breath, steeling myself to face Greed when I stepped out the door and tell him that under no circumstances would I be stealing from the nice family that was being so kind to me.  
I opened the door and looked left and right. He was nowhere to be seen. I knew that didn't really mean he wasn't there, so I said, "Greed? I'm not going to do it, so you can just leave." I listened.  
There was nothing. I smiled. Maybe he was really gone. I walked down the stairs to where Agnes and Charles were at. My wine glass was still sitting where I had left it.  
I looked from it to Agnes and Charles. They seemed to be fuzzy. I wasn't sure what it was. I blinked a couple times.  
"Are you all right, dear?" asked Agnes. "We thought we heard shouting."  
I shook my head to clear it a bit. "I'm fine," I said. "I wonder if I could have more wine."  
"Of course," said Charles. "Your glass is right there, and once you finish it, you are more than welcome to another glass."  
"No," my mouth said. "Can I have the bottle?" Agnes and Charles looked at each other, concern in their eyes.  
"Well, it is a rather expensive bottle, and we had been saving it for our anniversary. We only opened it tonight to welcome you into our home. We want to save the rest of it, if that's all right."  
Yes, of course it's all right! I wanted to scream. But the words that left my mouth were, "What other wines do you have? Do you have a cellar?"  
Charles nodded, a jerky sort of movement. "I can show you if you like," he said. "You can pick out a bottle there if you like." I nodded. "Come along then," he said, getting up and beckoning me along. Agnes stayed in her chair, but I could hear her getting up as we left the room.  
Charles led me to a door down a hallway. He opened it and started down.  
Another feeling came over me. This feeling was not covetous, so I knew it wasn't coming from Greed, though that feeling was still very powerfully there. No, this new feeling was anger. It was a grating anger unlike I had ever felt before.  
"I'm Wrath," said a new voice. This one was deep and raspy. Oddly enough, it didn't sound like it was angry by itself. However, the voice filled me with an intense hatred. "Push him," it said. "They've denied you what you wanted. He's going to deny you what you want again. Doesn't that make you angry?"  
I shook my head. No, my inner voice said. I don't want this.  
"It's too late," said Wrath. "I'm inside of you now, and it is useless fighting me."  
My arms rose of their own accord, ready to push Charles down the flight of stairs. I heard a click.  
I whirled around. Agnes was standing at the top of the steps, a shotgun in her hand. I didn't know how I knew it was a shotgun. Information supplied by Wrath, no doubt. It was clearly a weapon created for carrying out unspeakable horrors, and vindicating the feeling of wrath that all humans had inside them.  
My mouth snarled up at Agnes. Stop it! my voice cried inside my head. Just stop this!  
But my vision was fading. Agnes and Charles were growing fuzzy, blurring out. I fought to keep in control, but it was futile. Everything went black.

My mind turned back on to me and the first thing I noticed was that I was no longer inside the house. I had on Clara's clothes that Agnes had given me, and cried out in shock when I saw the blood that was covering it.  
"What happened?" I cried. "What have I done? Are they all right?"  
There was a sinister laugh. "Of course they're not okay," said Wrath. "You killed them. Don't you remember?"  
"You didn't have to break half of the wine bottles to do them in with, though," said Greed. I looked around. I couldn't see them, but of course they were there. I looked down at my hands. I was carrying the vintage bottle that they had been saving for their anniversary, along with a bottle of white wine that I knew was delicious. I must have had some of it while I was blacked out, because I couldn't remember drinking it before, and a quarter of it was already gone.  
"It was quite good," said Greed. "I wanted all of it, but you made me stop. Gave me quite a bruise too in the process. I suppose that bit was your doing, Wrath?"  
"No," said Wrath. "That was all the girl. She was fighting us even subconsciously. She's got a bit of a temper in her own right, even without my help." His voice had gotten a bit warmer now that there was no place to direct a feeling of anger. Greed had subsided a bit too, but he kept encouraging me to take this car or that one. The only reason I didn't was because Wrath thought it would draw too much attention.  
"We don't need to expose our existence to the world right now," he said. "That will come in time." There was a definite smirk in his voice. "And, as I imagine, the others are causing a bit of trouble elsewhere in time right now. Or right then, as it were. Shall we?"  
They appeared on either side of me, took my arms, and in an instant we weren't there anymore. I gasped when I saw where they had taken me.


	8. Of Mozart and Salieri

Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who, FMA, or their characters. My use of historical figures should not be taken as essays on the personalities of said historical figures.

Please, please, give me some reviews!

Chapter 7  
Of Mozart and Salieri

Sean had watched the police box disappear, the now-familiar whine of the engine signaling its departure. Then he turned to his house and went inside. He needed some sleep. And a shower. He took off the vortex manipulator and set it on the nightstand next to his bed.  
After his shower, he came out and put it back on. He knew the importance of this device, and he didn't want it out of his sight for longer than he could help. He wasn't sure if it could handle getting wet, so he had left it off.  
He then went to his desktop computer and switched it on. The first thing he needed to do was learn as much as he could about Pandora's Box and the Seven Deadly Sins. He knew that if he was to locate them in history, he would have to intimately understand them and how they worked.  
He pulled up Google and started looking.

A few days and fifty cups of coffee later, he sat back in his chair. He was exhausted, wired, and sweating caffeine. He hadn't turned on the air conditioning or showered since he had sat down. The only thing he had done was slept, and then only when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. His bed hadn't been touched, so his back and neck were sore from sitting in the chair for so long.  
His stomach growled, waking him from his stupor. He had eaten, but only snacks, or things that could be heated in the microwave. His logic was that he didn't have time to waste, when in fact, time was something he really did have a lot of. He simply didn't understand the power of the vortex manipulator yet.  
He now knew that the seven deadly sins were Wrath, Envy, Pride, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, and Sloth. He felt pretty slothful himself, having not gone to work or called in sick in nearly a week.  
But more importantly, he felt that he understood how they would manifest themselves.  
Unfortunately, he had to differentiate their manifestations from the fact that sometimes people acted that way of their own accord, without outside influence. It was part of human nature.  
So he needed to look for the exceptional cases throughout history. Wrath would be very difficult, because it would constitute sifting through every war that ever happened and finding out if what started it was political or simply an act of passion, and if it was passion, what had brought it on.  
Lust would be relatively simple to find, as would Gluttony. He just had to find records of mass orgies, or people stuffing themselves so full of food that they exploded.  
Sean had expected Envy to be the hardest to find, since people were just naturally jealous of other people's possessions or abilities. However, when he turned his radio on to the classical station to help him think, Mozart's Requiem Mass was playing. He thought back to when he had seen that movie about Mozart, Amadeus, it was called. Antonio Salieri had been insanely jealous of Mozart's abilities, to be sure, but did that mean that Envy was actually there, influencing him? Sean doubted it.  
Still, it was a shot, and considering the extremes to which Salieri had gone to torture and ultimately kill Mozart through illness and exhaustion, it was highly possible it was motivated by the real thing. Even if it was just a movie dramatization, thought Sean, it was a place to start.  
He showered, putting the vortex manipulator on the sink counter while he did so. When he got out and had dried off, he put it back on. He went to make some pasta, to satisfy his stomach's urgent calling. He had time, he thought. And since Mozart's death had already occurred, he didn't need to rush to stop it. It was probably another one of those fixed points in time, as the Doctor would say.  
While he ate, Sean read through the instruction manual, since he hadn't thought about doing that at all during his research.  
It turned out that the vortex was remarkably simple to use. It was even easier than using a graphing calculator; for one, you didn't have to memorize complex formulas. It actually reminded Sean a bit of the DeLorean in Back to the Future. He just had to enter a date and time that he wanted to get to. It took him a little bit longer to figure out how to use the spatial manipulator. For that, you had to know coordinates of where you wanted to go. Fortunately, he was able to Google that. He just had to look up the latitude and longitude for Vienna, Austria, where he knew Mozart and Salieri would both be working for the emperor.  
He entered the coordinates he found into the manipulator: Forty-eight point two zero eight three degrees North, Sixteen point three seven three one degrees East. He then input a time where it seemed reasonable that Mozart and Salieri would both be at court. July first, seventeen hundred eighty five, at five o' clock in the afternoon. It seemed no less reasonable than any other time he could have chosen, and with a destination in mind, Sean had but to write down his return coordinates and time, that way he wouldn't be stuck in late eighteenth century Vienna.  
He ate, showered, brushed his teeth (he may get to meet an emperor, after all) and dressed as humbly as possible. Then he stopped.  
"Shit," he said. "I have to get some period clothes, or I'll stick out like a sore thumb!" So he went down to a costume shop and bought a set of clothes that would not have felt out of place during the American Revolution. He hoped that fashion trends were the same in Vienna.  
With costume in hand, he went home and dressed. Checking himself in the mirror one last time, and adjusting his wig, he strapped on the vortex manipulator where it would be easily concealable under a sleeve. He took a breath, closed his eyes, and hit the button that would send him back into the past.  
Instantly, he felt stiflingly hot. The other thing he noticed instantly was a rancid odor emanating from around his feet. He opened his eyes cautiously, his nose wrinkled at the stench, and looked down.  
Of course, as it would happen, he was standing in the middle of the road in a pile of horse manure. He rolled his eyes.  
"How cliché," he muttered to himself.  
"Get out of the way!" a voice roared behind him.  
He jumped to the side without pausing to think, and not a second too soon, for a carriage was being pulled by a pair of horses, running over the spot he had been standing not a moment ago.  
"Stupid fool!" yelled the man driving the horses, and spat at him.  
Sean scowled. "Why don't you watch where you're going," he growled, though he knew better than to actually yell it back at the man. There was no telling what the man may do then.  
He paused in his thoughts. "How could I understand him?" he asked himself out loud. "Aren't I in Vienna? Wouldn't he be speaking Austrian or German or something? I don't speak German."  
He shook his head, and filed it under 'questions to ask the Doctor later.' He figured it had something to do with the time travel. At least, thought Sean, it would make the process of locating Mozart and Salieri a bit easier.  
"Where do I start, though?" he wondered aloud. He looked around, as if there would be a sign saying, "Mozart lives here!" in big neon letters. He didn't see one of those, however there was a very large building in the distance that may have been the emperor's mansion.  
Sean shrugged. "That's as good a place as any," he said, and started walking.  
As he went along, making sure to avoid any horse droppings on the way, he considered what he would make his cover story. He couldn't, of course, just wander up to the emperor's palace and say that Sean wanted to talk to Mozart.  
"What will my name be?" he wondered aloud. "I doubt there are any Irishmen here, so Sean won't do." He thought for a moment. "Well, there are all of those composers named Johann, so there are probably a lot of those. So Johann Schmidt would probably work well." He smiled at his own cleverness.  
Now what would his story be? A message from Mozart's father? When did his father die? Just to be safe, Sean decided to be delivering a message from Mozart's sister.  
"And if they should ask me what the message is, so they can deliver it personally?" said Sean aloud. That was simple. He would just say that the message was private and urgent, and could only be delivered to Mozart himself.  
Then Sean stopped abruptly. What on earth was he going to say to Mozart when he met him? What exactly does one say to one of the greatest composers and most talented musicians that ever lived.  
For to be sure, Mozart possessed a prodigious skill, encouraged, of course, by his father Leopold. Sean just didn't know how exactly he would introduce himself, or explain why he needed to speak with him.  
He sighed, resigned to the fact that he would just have to figure it out when he arrived.  
He kept going towards the palace, and when he reached the gate, the two guards flanking it stopped him, crossing their spears to do so.  
"Halt," said the guard on the right. "Who goes there?"  
"I am Johann Schmidt," said Sean, hoping that they bought his story. "I bring a message for Herr Mozart. May I see him?"  
The guard on the right, the one who had spoken, looked to the guard on the left. His partner nodded. The guard looked back at Sean. "Very well," he said. "Take your message, and know that you are under the grace of his Majesty, Emperor Joseph the Second, and if you betray that trust that we have put on you in any way, you may wish that you had not come here today, or that you had ever existed."  
Sean swallowed. The warning was understandable. After all, this was the palace of an emperor. It was only proper to threaten visitors with death if they posed a possible threat to the monarch.  
"Thank you," he said, and nodded to the guards. They parted to let him through. He wandered up to the main door. A man standing outside next to it hailed him, and Sean gave him the same story that he had given the guards at the gate, that his name was Johann Schmidt, and he had a message for Herr Mozart.  
"Herr Mozart will be arriving later today," said the man. "But I can show you in where you may await his arrival." He beckoned Sean inside, and was replaced outside by another man.  
The man, who Sean supposed was a kind of butler, showed Sean through a series of rooms and up a staircase, then through a set of large double doors. Inside was a grand piano, with an older gentleman sitting at it. He seemed to be making notes on a sheet of music. Also in the room, standing near the piano, was a young lady in a large poofy wig.  
"You may await Herr Mozart in here," said the butler. "In the meantime, you may acquaint yourself with Herr Salieri. Maestro?" he said, and the man at the piano looked up. "This is Johann Schmidt, and he bears a message for Herr Mozart. I thought you might wish to speak with him as well. He may have a bit of a taste for music." The butler glanced at him, and Sean smiled.  
"My humblest gratitude, sir," said Sean, hoping he was speaking properly. "I am a bit of a musician myself." The butler bowed jerkily, and walked out of the room, closing the doors behind him. Sean looked back at Salieri.  
He didn't seem like a man green with envy. Maybe Mozart had to be nearby, or the homunculus itself had to impose his presence in order to feel its effects.  
In any case, Salieri seemed to be a very jovial man. He rose from his seat and smiled at Sean.  
"Come," he said. "Have a seat, we're only just finishing up here." He looked at the young lady. "Remember to practice your breathing, and using your air to carry you to the higher notes on the aria. Practice your scales and arpeggios as well, and I will see you again in two days."  
The young lady thanked Salieri, smiled shyly at Sean, and exited the same way the butler had.  
Salieri turned around and smiled at Sean. "One of my pupils. She is the emperor's niece, and he dotes on her so. I only offer my humble abilities as instruction for her, and hope that it pleases her and him." He gestured to a set of chairs nearby, and he and Sean sat down.  
"So, you have a message for Herr Mozart, then?" said Salieri, still smiling, though Sean detected there was a bit of a forcedness to it now.  
"Yes, your Excellency," said Sean.  
"Please, call me Antonio," said Salieri, though his smile softened and seemed warmer and more genuine.  
"Yes, Antonio," said Sean. "I'm Johann. It's an honor to meet you, sir."  
Salieri looked touched. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Herr Schmidt." He shook Sean's hand, and sat back in his chair, all business now, though still smiling.  
"Do you mind if I ask what the message is?" he said.  
"Actually, I wished to speak with both of you, Herr Salieri," said Sean. "What is your opinion of Herr Mozart?"  
Salieri looked taken aback. He brought his hands to his lips and narrowed his eyes, as though he were studying Sean. Then he shrugged. "The man is a genius. His musical talent far exceeds my own, both in his playing and his composing. Oh, his compositions!" said Salieri, and he closed his eyes and lifted his hands to the sky in reverence. "It is sublime. It is as if God himself speaks through Mozart's music. I could only hope to reach a quarter of the talent that Mozart has, and even that is a far stretch for me." He smiled, slightly mollified. "I myself have been a part of the Emperor's court for many years, and he himself invited me to be a part of it, so I am no small talent." His eyes grew distant. "But when Mozart arrived at court to play some of his work..." he paused and closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I thought I may have been out of a job that day. The emperor was very taken with Mozart's skill. I was only saved, I think, through the young man's lack of humility."  
Sean interrupted tentatively. "You think him arrogant, sir?"  
Salieri nodded. "Arrogant might even be too weak a word," he said, "though I have yet to find a word to suffice. He was vulgar as well, chasing his young fiancée around as though they were children at play." Salieri opened his eyes then. "But when he came in to conduct his symphony for the emperor, oh...it was magnificence. I find his arrogance forgivable. He has earned the right to be arrogant and cocksure, I think. His music is simply that good. However, he could put a little gratitude back to the one who made him so great."  
"His father?" asked Sean.  
"Leopold encouraged and nurtured his son's talent, to be sure," said Salieri. "But Leopold did not give Wolfgang his talent. Only God did."  
"You are a very religious man, Herr Salieri," said Sean. Salieri nodded. Sean asked, "Do you ever find yourself envious of Mozart's gifts?"  
Salieri thought for a moment, and said, "Yes, I do. Why should he, who never thanks God for the gifts he has been bestowed, continue to be as remarkably prolific as he is, while I, who always say my prayers and thank God every day for the gift of music not only to myself, but to the world, am so...mediocre in comparison?" Salieri sighed. "But it is God's will that it be so, and I believe in His plan."  
"How do you know it is God's will?" asked Sean, sincerely curious.  
"Because that is what is so," said Salieri simply. "If it were not so, it would be in His plan. His will be done, whether we like it or not."  
Sean nodded. "I believe I understand, sir," he said.  
At that moment, the doors opened, and the butler walked in. "Herr Mozart is here, Maestro, Herr Schmidt." He bowed and walked out. Not a moment later, a younger man strutted in with all the airs of a peacock fluffing his feathers.  
"Good morning, Herr Salieri," said Mozart.  
"It's afternoon," replied Salieri with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.  
Mozart stared for a moment, and then let out a bark of a laugh that would peel paint off a wall. Sean stifled a snort. The movie had gotten that bit right, apparently.  
The noise was not lost on Mozart. He looked sharply at the intruder. "And who might you be?" he asked with an air of pomposity.  
Sean cleared his throat. "Johann Schmidt," he said, "at your service, Herr Mozart."  
Mozart sneered. "I understand you have a message for me?"  
Sean nodded, and began to speak. It was at that moment, however, that he began to detect something about Mozart. The arrogance that he walked around with was more than mere confidence in his work's superiority. It was a certainty of his own superiority over everyone else he came into contact with.  
Then Sean began to feel a twinge of the same feeling within himself, but he fought it down.  
"I mainly wanted to speak with you, sir," he said. "I want to learn more about your gift of music, and how one might study to become as great as you."  
Perhaps Mozart's eyes looked slightly mollified at that proclamation, but the words out of his mouth were: "One does not simply study to become as great as I. You simply are, or you aren't. And I just happen to be the only one as great as I am. There is no man better."  
Salieri chose that moment to clear his throat. Mozart jerked his head toward his colleague. "Well it's true, Maestro. You may be the court composer here, and I beseech you that title, but you have the benefit of years alone on me."  
At these words, Sean was certain of two things. One: Salieri was not behaving as a man green with jealousy, as he would most certainly be if being influenced by Envy, and two: Mozart was clearly being influenced by Pride, which was sure to be dangerous, in case Envy decided to turn his gaze towards Salieri. The combination of the two could be disastrous, as it had proved to be in the film.  
Sean knew that somehow he had to remove Mozart from the influence of Pride, and protect Salieri from Envy, for he respected Mozart's art, and he respected Salieri on principle, and didn't wish for harm of any sort to come to either of the men.  
Of course, Mozart would die at age thirty six; that fact was something he could not change. However, it would not be through the sinister ministrations of a jealous Salieri, set against God.  
He decided to speak. He must choose his words carefully though. "I have had the opportunity to speak with Herr Salieri about you, Herr Mozart," he said. "He has nothing but the highest respect and reverence for your work."  
Mozart turned to him, then nodded slightly to Salieri in gratitude. "Herr Salieri has taught me much," he said. "Not directly, you understand, but I have learned much from observing him and his work." He sat down on a chair next to Salieri. "I would not be where I am today without his influence."  
Salieri looked truly touched at these words. The smile seemed to reach his eyes now. "Mozart," he said, "I am blessed every day to be in the company of a talent such as yours."  
Mozart smiled at this, and turned his face back to Sean. "Well, Herr Schmidt," he said. "What would you like to know?"  
Sean hesitated. He didn't know what to say now. He still detected a faint hint of Pride in Mozart's voice, even when he had seemed to be complimenting Salieri. The words were right, but there was a trace of snideness, as if he really meant that he learned from Salieri's mistakes, or learned what not to do.  
He was saved in that moment by the arrival of the butler. "Herr Salieri, Herr Mozart," he said with a slight bow. "His Majesty the emperor requests your presence at once." He looked at Sean. "You must wait here, if your business is not concluded." Sean nodded.  
The composers stood up. Salieri looked at him. "Feel free to have a look at some of my work," he said, gesturing to the piano. He winked. "I've left a few theory exercises there. See if you can puzzle them out, and we'll see your progress when we return."  
Sean rose from his seat and bowed first to Salieri, then to Mozart. They exited.  
Sean breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that the emperor had summoned them when he did. Now he had a chance to think and consider his plan of action.  
He thought about when he had felt the slight twinge of pride within himself and how he was able to fight it down. Was it because it was simply his own personal pride in himself that he was able to fight it, or had the homunculus Pride had been trying to influence him as well as Mozart and he only was able to fend it off because Pride's attention was more focused on Mozart? Sean wasn't sure. What had the Doctor said? That he would be able to fight them off when he had hope, whatever that meant.  
Then he saw in his mind's eye a Wikipedia page about Pandora's Box that he had looked at while doing his research. According to the legend, when Pandora had opened up the box, she had let all of the evils in the world escape. Those evils had evidently turned out to be representations of the seven deadly sins. But when she shut the box up to try to keep them from escaping, she had closed up inside it the tiniest fragment of hope.  
Sean's eyes lit up. Could that have been what the Doctor meant? He got out the box, which he had remembered to tuck inside his several layers of clothing, and looked at it.  
It seemed perfectly ordinary. He shook it. There was no sound. He shrugged and opened it to look inside. There was nothing unusual that he could see, and it seemed completely empty.  
"Hello?" he called into the box quietly, wondering if Hope had a corporeal form like the homunculi did, and if it might hear him and be able to respond.  
There was no response, however, and Sean closed the box dejectedly and stuffed it back inside his clothes.  
Resigned, he slouched over to the piano and looked at some of the music Salieri had been working on. He studied it closely, and began to pick some of it out on the piano. It was nice, he thought. It was a bit quaint, but it was nice.  
Some papers to the side caught his eye. Those must have been the theory exercises Salieri had mentioned. Sean picked them up and gasped.  
A single glance at them had confirmed that Envy was indeed wreaking his influence over Salieri. The papers fluttered out of his hand as he stood up, horrified at what was written on it.  
Why would Salieri have told him to look at these papers? Was the person inside trying to give him a clue, as a desperate cry for help?  
Sean picked up the piano bench, which he realized he had knocked over in his shock and haste to get up.  
It seemed Envy had been very calculating, and must have known that Sean was talking to Salieri, so he had made Salieri say words to throw Sean off the scent. Surely Pride was still in on the operation, because nobody could be as much of an arrogant dickhead as Mozart was clearly being without outside influence.  
Sean wasn't sure what he was going to do now. Without Hope, he didn't really have a chance of facing a homunculus, let alone two of them, and keeping in control over his own actions.  
Perhaps there would be a way to pit the two of them against each other. Pride and Envy were, in a way, opposite counterparts. They complemented each other. Pride thought himself superior to all others, and Envy was jealous of the power and confidence that Pride exuded. Those things were simply in their nature.  
Sean shook his head to clear it. Figuring out how to pit them against each other was the simple part. The hard part was going to be getting their influence away from Mozart and Salieri. The only thing he could think of was to get the two of them to focus their energies on him, rather than the composers.  
Sean sat down at the piano again and piddled around with the keys, not really thinking about playing anything, but just trying to fill the silence. He looked back at the papers that he had let fall to the ground and picked them up. He studied them for a moment, then placed them in the same spot he had picked them up from on the piano.  
Looking at them had given him an idea. It was completely mad, and he wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish it without Hope, but he had to try.


	9. Mount Olympus

Disclaimer: Still not an owner of anything other than this laptop and this story. Most characters and technologies in it are not mine. Read and review please!

Chapter 8  
Mount Olympus

I stood there, stunned, as I gazed on the temple to Athena. The Parthenon was as beautiful as I remembered it, and the people milling around were people that I remembered. There were some of my old friends sitting by the well, talking amongst each other.  
I called out to them, but no sound came out of my mouth.  
"Uh uh uh," said Greed. "You don't exist right here and now."  
"What do you mean?" I asked. I stomped on the ground and a cloud of dust rose up. "Isn't that real?"  
He chuckled. "Let me amend myself," he said. "You don't exist to them anymore. At this point you've left them. We don't know why, so we sent Lust ahead to seek an audience with the gods to find out exactly how you ended up in that box with us."  
I frowned. Nobody simply sought an audience with the gods. We prayed, of course, but you couldn't just walk up to Mount Olympus, knock on the door, and demand to speak to Zeus. To do so would be an invitation for a lightning bolt to the face.  
When I told this to Greed and Wrath, they laughed.  
"Do you know nothing of Zeus' reputation?" said Wrath. "Why do you think we sent Lust ahead?"  
I thought for a second, then swore. Of course, everyone knew that Zeus would sleep with just about anything that moved, and he'd even been known to turn into an animal to do it.  
"So how will that get Zeus, or any of the gods for that matter, to talk about what happened to me and all of you to get us trapped inside the box? Remember, they are gods, and are more than likely immune to any of your influences, no matter how much Lust seduces him."  
Greed laughed softly. "She's already seduced him. He's buried himself in her loins as we speak."  
I raised my eyebrows incredulously. "And how on earth could you know that?" I asked.  
"We're what you say...connected," said Wrath. "We maintain an intimate bond with each other, even separated by great distances and years between us."  
Greed continued, "Since Lust is so close to us, her passions affect us a bit more...potently." He and Wrath shuddered in apparent ecstasy at the same time. "And it seems that Zeus knows how to please a woman," he said. "Not very surprising, considering how much practice he gets, but Lust can usually last a lot longer than that." He winked at me.  
I turned my head, disgusted. Such vile creatures were these. I wished I could get away from them. I tried calling out to my friends again. There was still no luck.  
"We told you," said Wrath, "you don't exist in the here and now. In any case, they've forgotten about you. They've moved on. Even if they could hear and see you, they wouldn't recognize you. Look at those clothes, after all."  
I looked down and realized I was still wearing the clothes that belonged to Clara, Agnes' daughter. "Oh," I said meekly.  
"Well," said Greed, "shall we?" And he and Wrath, each still clutching one of my arms firmly but gently, led me towards Olympus.  
As we passed in front of my friends, their faces turned in my direction, their eyes searching for something they couldn't see. It was as if they could feel my presence there, but couldn't quite sense what was making them feel it.  
But we walked by them; the moment passed. They shook their heads as though they were waking from a dream or a trance.  
"You know that just because Lust was able to get Zeus to sleep with her doesn't mean that he is going to tell her or you anything that will assist you in gaining control of Olympus," I said disdainfully as we continued to walk toward the mountain.  
Greed laughed. "Olympus?" he said scornfully. "What makes you think we want control of Olympus?"  
"You said so earlier," I pointed out.  
He shook his head. "No, that's small time thinking. Olympus is good, but we want the world." He stated this as though it were the simplest task in the world to accomplish.  
"Many have tried to take over the world over the course of its history," I said, having learned a little bit about the various campaigns to do so. "None ever came close to taking even a tenth of it."  
Wrath nodded. "True," he said. "But they didn't have the assistance of gods. They prayed, of course, to be sure. But their prayers went unanswered."  
I snorted. I couldn't believe the arrogance of these two. "And what makes you think the gods will answer your prayers when Alexander, the Roman Empire, and Genghis Khan couldn't manage it?"  
"You will understand soon enough," said Wrath simply.  
We walked in silence for some time more, the mountain seeming to grow larger as we neared it. After a while, I began to grow thirsty.  
"Can we stop for a moment?" I asked as politely as I could. "I need to rest. My feet hurt and I need a drink of water."  
Wrath looked at Greed. "I suppose we can halt for a short while," said Greed. "I understand how the desires of the flesh can weaken it when the flesh is denied them."  
Wrath sighed. "All right," he said. "But we can only stop for a moment. Lust is now competing with Aphrodite as to who can arouse the lightning king more," he said with a groan.  
Greed grinned wickedly. "We'll make this a short break then. I've always wanted to meet Aphrodite."  
We stopped, and Greed produced a goblet of water for me, along with some grapes. I sat down on a nearby rock and drank deeply. The juices of the grapes were so sweet I could barely stand it.  
"Could I possibly have some meat of some sort?" I asked.  
Greed shook his head. "Sorry, I'm a vegetarian," he said with a smirk. "I don't kill animals."  
I sneered at him. The grapes were very good though.  
When I had finished, they wasted no time in making the goblet and the grape stems vanish, and grabbed me by the arms again, lest I attempt to escape. I didn't know where I would have gone even if I had managed to get away. Nobody could see me here anyway, so I wouldn't receive any help. I bowed my head and said a silent prayer to the gods as we continued up the mountain.  
We had just reached the tree line when something came shooting down from the sky, and landed next to us. It looked like a cross between a lion and an eagle.  
I marveled at it. I had heard of them before, and read about them in the books at the library, but this was the first I'd ever seen one in the flesh. The griffin was beautiful. The fur of the lion portion transitioned seamlessly into the feathers of the eagle. Its tail whipped back and forth as it eyed us with the eye of the raptor.  
Nothing could have prepared me for what the griffin did next, however, for none of the books had mentioned that it had this ability.  
"Zeus awaits your presence," said the griffin. "And I must say he is most impatient. He has become bored with your seductress and wishes to speak with your master."  
"We have no master," Wrath muttered dangerously. "We are our own masters."  
"Be that as it may," said the griffin, "he wishes to speak with you first." And with that, the griffin took off into the air, grabbed Wrath about the shoulders with his talons, and flew up to the peak of the mountain, which was hidden to us behind a cloud.  
Greed and I stared up after it. "Well, that was sudden and unexpected," said Greed. "Thank goodness, too, I was getting tired of that angry blowhard." He let go of my arm and sat down. "He's never able to fight his own battles, so it's good to see that he gets upstaged every once in a while."  
"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.  
"We are only the representations of the sins which we are named after," said Greed. "We can't truly act on them, so we get others to act on them for us." When I still looked perplexed, he continued. "It's like this. Wrath is constantly pissed off about something, and his greatest desire is to take it out on something or someone. But the only way he can do it is by influencing someone else to do it for him. Why do you think there are so many wars over meaningless crap like land?"  
I thought for a moment. "That makes sense," I said. "But why can't you do anything for yourselves?"  
Greed smiled. "Wrath is also one of the biggest liars the world has ever seen. We do, in fact, have a master, and while he doesn't necessarily control us, we can't actually do anything, such as act on our impulses, without his consent."  
"What happens if you do?" I asked.  
"We can't." Greed set his elbows on his knees and leaned onto his hands. "It's really that simple. There is no way for us to do it."  
"So you couldn't actually just take something if you wanted it badly enough?" Greed shook his head. "Wow," I said. "That must be another kind of hell, to have no free will or say in what you can and can't do. To be forced to deny your own urges."  
Greed sat up and his eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing," he said. "But there's no deadly sin called Guilt, and that doesn't affect me." He leaned back onto his hands. "I know that we took your free will away too, but isn't that the nature of humans? To take free will from others so you can act out your own will?"  
I shook my head. "Not in my experience," I said. "It seems to me that having free will is the only thing that truly makes us human. Otherwise we would be just animals, acting purely on instinct." I glared at him. "Much like you would if you were able to."  
He glowered back, but said nothing. He stood up and took a knife out of a pocket that I hadn't seen, and all of a sudden whirled around and threw it at a wild pig. It sunk in clean between the pig's eyes.  
I stared, wide-eyed. "I thought you didn't kill animals," I said.  
He shrugged. "That was just for Wrath. If he knew I killed things when I felt like it, do you really think he'd just leave me alone? No, he would try to control me too." He looked sideways at me. "Don't assume this means I'm on your side, though," he said as the dead pig disappeared and reappeared on a spit over a happily burning fire. Greed wiped the blade of his knife clean and put it back in his pocket, which I assumed must have doubled as a sheath.  
It was some time later, when I was full of the pig meat (stringy, but good), that Wrath came hiking down the mountain. There was something following closely behind him, but  
I couldn't tell what it was yet. It was though there was a sort of veil shielding it from being seen properly.  
"No griffin ride down, Wrath?" asked Greed sardonically.  
Wrath scowled at him. "No," he said curtly. "But there will be something on the way to pick her up," he said, gesturing to me.  
"What is it?" I asked. Wrath just glowered.  
"Oh," said Greed. "She gets to go up in style." He wagged his eyebrows at me. "I guess I have to take the long way up. See you there."  
I stuck my tongue out at him. I'm not sure why I did, but it was the rudest thing I could think of at the time.  
"Hey!" said Greed. "That could be a thing one day!" I rolled my eyes.  
At that moment, I heard the whinny of a horse. I looked up the trail that Wrath and his still unnamed companion had come down, but could see nothing.  
Greed pointed upward, so I looked up just in time to see a great winged stallion, a Pegasus rocket right over my head and land daintily on the ground behind me. I stared.  
I had thought the griffin was beautiful, but the beast now standing before me was magnificent. It was jet black, and had eyes that reminded me of the stars.  
"He's beautiful," I said to myself.  
And then, as if I hadn't seen enough miraculous things already, the Pegasus said "Thank you," in the richest, most musical voice I had ever heard. It was a voice that made you instantly trust him. I would have trusted a dragon with that voice.  
I walked toward it tentatively. "Do you have a name?" I whispered, and I could feel the homunculi's eyes on me.  
The Pegasus stared at me and shook his head slowly. "Nobody ever thought to give me one," he said. "They just call me Pegasus."  
"What would you like to be called?" I asked.  
The horse blinked, seeming to think, or hesitate. "Stormageddon," he said.  
Greed snorted. Stormageddon looked at him. Greed quieted down.  
The Pegasus looked back at me. "Climb on," he said.  
I hesitated. "I...I've never even ridden a horse before," I stammered.  
Stormageddon knelt down, so I could sit on his back, one leg hooked behind each of his wings. He rose up quickly, so I had to wrap my hands around his mane to steady myself.  
"Sorry," he said.  
"No, it's okay," I replied.  
"Ready?"  
"Yes."  
With a rush of air, Stormageddon beat his powerful wings and we rose into the air. His hooves beat at the air beneath us as though he were galloping.  
We soared further up, and I wanted to ask him so many questions, but the wind was rushing by so fast, I couldn't catch my breath. Even when I tried to whoop with delight, the sound was ripped from my lips as soon as I uttered it.  
We vanished into the cloud, which was a little bit damper than I expected, but it was pleasantly cool.  
When we exited out of the upper side of the cloud, water droplets clung to my hair and Stormageddon's fur and feathers. One flap of his wings shook them off, and I shook my head a few times to dry my hair a little. It didn't work very well though.  
Looking up, I saw the peak of the mountain, and what looked like an exact replica of the Parthenon, only a hundred times larger. I swallowed, trying to keep my courage up.  
We flew up to a trail near the top and landed on it. I was more than a little windswept. I got down off of Stormageddon's back.  
"Are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice.  
I nodded and stretched my legs. "Yes," I said. "I'm just not used to riding."  
"I apologize if it was frightening or uncomfortable," he said. "I can't change the way my back is shaped, but I suppose I could have gone around the cloud."  
I shook my head. "Actually, that part was nice," I said. "I had been warm anyway." I looked up to the courtyard where the palace of the gods loomed over us. "And I'm more afraid of stepping up there."  
"Have you been here before?" he asked.  
I shook my head. "No, but the last time I was around this area, Zeus and I didn't exactly end on good terms."  
Stormageddon nodded, a very un-horselike thing to do, and very odd to see a horse doing. "I have heard tell of your past transgressions, yes," he said. "But do not fear. Zeus has sent for you with good will. If he did not wish you well, he would have made you climb up the hard way, or worse yet, the griffin could have carried you." He chuckled a little, which mixed in nicely with a small whinny. "Wrath did not have a very comfortable trip up. And you would have had it worse, for you do not heal as quickly as he does. Those talons of the griffin's would have torn your shoulders to shreds."  
I shuddered. "You're not being exactly encouraging, Stormageddon," I said.  
"I apologize," he said, and kicked at the ground a bit. "Would you like to ride me the rest of the way up? It is forbidden for all but Hermes to fly above the courtyard."  
I shook my head. I expected riding on the ground would be more uncomfortable than riding in the air due to how bumpy it was. I didn't fancy the idea of bouncing up and down on the Pegasus' back, especially without a saddle. "I would appreciate if you would walk with me, though."  
Stormageddon nodded. "It would be my honor," he said.  
So side by side, we walked up onto the courtyard of the gods.


	10. The Slight Failure of Pride and Envy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the story and a small few of its characters. Everything else is beyond my ownership, as it should be.

Chapter 9  
The Slight Failure of Pride and Envy

Sean waited for Mozart and Salieri for a little while in Salieri's lesson studio, picking at the piano a bit more while he waited. When they finally returned, it was growing rather late in the day.  
"Herr Schmidt," said Salieri, nodding to me as he walked in, "I apologize for keeping you waiting, but the matter was urgent."  
"I hope everything is all right," said Sean.  
"Oh, not to worry," said Mozart. "It was simply a discussion over whether my opera would be in Italian or German. I myself am tired of the boring old Italian operas, and I thought we were due for a German libretto. Maestro Salieri sided with the Direktor, however, when the Direktor mentioned that the emperor's law was that German opera is forbidden, as it is a vulgar language and not fit for royal ears in the form of music."  
"Which is perfectly true," interrupted Salieri. "That was the emperor's law."  
"Was, sir?" asked Sean.  
Mozart grinned. "Yes," he said. "I managed to convince the emperor to change his mind. I told him it was a matter of national pride. We speak German in this country, not Italian. Why should we bow towards the whims of those pompous fools from Naples or Rome or wherever?" He leaned forward. "And besides, it would look good in the public's eye to allow an opera that they could understand."  
Salieri inclined his head. "I concede your point, Herr Mozart," he said. "You have written remarkable Italian operas, however, if you recall," he added with a smile.  
Mozart scoffed. "Yes, of course they were remarkable," he said, as though they couldn't have been anything but amazing. "I wrote them, and I am remarkable, so my music is as well."  
Sean interrupted. "So the opera will be in German then?"  
Mozart nodded. "And the public will definitely approve of the decision made by the emperor," he said.  
Salieri turned to Sean. "Yes, indeed," he said. "However, it appears we have taken up too much of your time. The hour grows late. Do you have accommodations for the night?" Sean shook his head. "Then perhaps Herr Mozart may oblige you to stay with him and his family?"  
Mozart looked at Salieri with accusing eyes. "I have only just been married, and Constanze and I have not really had a chance at time alone." He looked at Sean. "I'm sorry, but I truly can not accommodate you. My father has been staying with us for several months now and he has only just parted back to Leipzig. He never approved of our marriage." A glow came into his eyes. "But I truly do love my Stanzie."  
Sean smiled. Even with all his pompousness and posturing, Mozart definitely had a human side to him.  
Mozart turned to Salieri. "Perhaps you would be able to take him in," he said. "You live alone, after all. I'm sure you could use the company. Maybe you could even teach him a thing or two about composing."  
Salieri inclined his head briefly to Mozart, then turned to smile at Sean. "I would be happy to oblige you, Herr Schmidt. My home isn't much, although the benefits of being Joseph's court composer are not quite what you would call modest."  
Sean smiled. "I'm sure it's wonderful, Maestro," he said. "And I am very grateful for your hospitality."  
Mozart smiled. "Well, now that's settled, I must get home to my wife, and we can finally be alone to do...you know." He winked at Sean, and laughed his ridiculous laugh. Salieri and Sean smiled to appease Mozart, albeit in a forced way. Mozart exited the room quickly, clearly very excited to get home and do unmentionable things to and with his wife. (side note: Mozart's son is conceived on this particular night)  
Salieri glanced at Sean, then turned to the piano to gather his things. "You're lucky it's summer, Herr Schmidt," he said. "The nights are frightfully awful in winter." He picked up all of his work, and stood up straight with a genuine smile. "Shall we?"  
They exited the emperor's palace and went towards the gate, where there was a carriage awaiting them.  
"Herr Mozart decided to walk home today," said the guard on the left. Sean wasn't surprised to see a different set. There had clearly been a changing of the guard during his time inside.  
The driver opened the door for Salieri, and he and Sean got in. They rode to Salieri's residence in silence. When they arrived, Salieri got out first and told the maid that he had a visitor staying with them that night and a bed should be prepared as quickly as possible.  
Sean entered Salieri's home, and looked about in wonder. Salieri had said that it wasn't much, but it wasn't modest. It was truly not quite as magnificent as the emperor's palace, but it was certainly no hovel either. Sean hung his coat on a rack near the door and followed Salieri to the dining room where a meal had already been prepared.  
"I knew that you would most likely be coming home with me today, so I sent word ahead to prepare a meal for you as well."  
"What about that bit about asking Mozart if he'd take me in?" asked Sean, taking a seat. Everything looked delicious.  
"Oh, I knew that he would not accept the invitation to take you in. I merely wished to judge how he would deny you lodgings, and let you see what sort of man he is." He smiled knowingly. "I am well aware of Herr Mozart's doings, and his father has indeed been staying with him and his wife for the past several months, but it grew unbearable for Leopold, and he left Wolfgang and Constanze on bitter terms." He sighed. "It is unlikely that Wolfgang will see his father alive again."  
"How do you know?" asked Sean.  
Salieri smiled. "I did not part on good terms with my own father either. Several years of not talking to him later, I received word that he had passed away. Typhoid, I believe it was. I did not mourn him, but I went home to be with my mother." He looked somewhat sad. "She did not last the next year," he said. "My father's death hit her quite hard."  
All of a sudden, and quite without warning, Salieri's hand banged against the table. Sean jumped, startled.  
"Are you all right, sir?" he asked, concern written in his face. He wondered if maybe this was the effect of one of the homunculi.  
He wasn't disappointed, for Salieri's next words were: "That little bastard! Why should he get all the talent when I am the one praying every day?" These words were shouted. The maid ran in to inquire as to what was going on. Salieri waved her out, and glared at Sean as though it was his doing.  
"I'm afraid I don't know, sir," said Sean. He waited with bated breath. This could be the moment to put the first phase of his plan in action.  
Salieri continued to glower until Sean said, "Shall we get back to dinner?" He looked at his meal, which lay untouched. "It looks delicious. I wish I was as powerful as you that I had the money to afford a maid and a cook this good." He eyed Salieri, wondering if a change would come over him, as Envy's focus turned to Sean.  
Unfortunately for Sean, Envy was not to be dissuaded from his target. "I know what you're trying to do, human," whispered Envy's voice in his ear. "And I'm afraid it simply won't work. You see, if we observe humans naturally behaving the way we want them to, we're actually less inclined to exert our influence over them. It's a waste of our energy if they're just going to do it themselves." There was a sneer in the voice as Sean searched behind him for the source.  
"Of course you can't see me right now," said Envy. "I don't want you to. And you'll just have to go back to the drawing board to come up with another plan to get rid of me...or you could just give up, because it's not going to work with me."  
Sean heard this last word, and clung to it with what hope he had. He didn't want to reveal what he had learned from Envy's careless use of the personal pronoun "me". So he kept silent and turned back to his meal.  
Salieri was staring at him as though he had gone mad. Perhaps he had. All Sean knew was that he now had a little bit of hope. And that was what made the difference.  
Envy appeared behind Salieri. "You can see and hear me now," said the homunculus, "but only you can. You'll be seen as mad if you respond to me, and I can just go about my business, and you can't do a thing about it." He leaned over Salieri's shoulder to peer at Sean. "Mozart will die at the hand of Salieri, or through his efforts at least, and you are powerless to stop it." Sean said nothing. "That's right, human," said Envy. "Accept fate as the inevitable." He laughed. "I don't even need to be around Salieri anymore. He's now become intoxicated by his own personal envy of Mozart and has resolved to go on a vendetta against him. You know how this will play out, so you can just go home and watch the movie of it if you don't want to sit here and see it in person. I wouldn't blame you, because it'll take about six more years to come to fruition." He laughed again, and vanished.  
Sean didn't trust Envy, so he said nothing. He knew that Envy was probably still around, working his mojo, just in case Sean tried to convince Salieri to give Mozart another chance.  
Salieri stood up at that moment. "I'm afraid I've lost my appetite," he said. "Rachel!" he called, and the maid came bustling in. "Go and give this to the children in the street. They deserve some charity."  
With that, Sean saw Salieri's compassion in action, something that was uninfluenced by Envy, because why would Salieri be jealous of street urchins?  
Sean knew that this could be the key to his whole plan. He just had to get rid of Pride somehow.

The next day, Sean accompanied Salieri to Mozart's home, claiming to want to see where the master composer worked. Salieri had grudgingly agreed to come along and show him the way there, but only because he had business with Mozart as well before he went to the palace.  
When they arrived, a beautiful young woman opened the door. She smiled at Salieri.  
"Herr Salieri!" she said warmly. "What a surprise, and what a pleasure it is to see you!" She opened her arms, and Salieri, who seemed genuinely pleased to see her as well, enveloped her in a hug.  
When their embrace ended, the woman looked at Sean. "And who is this?"  
Salieri smiled. "This is Herr Johann Schmidt," he said. "He claims to be something of a musician himself, but I have yet to hear proof of that. I hope to work with him more today when we reach the palace. At the present he wishes a tour of your home so he can see your husband at work, and possibly where he gets some of his inspiration." He turned to Sean. "Herr Schmidt, this is Constanze Mozart, Wolfgang's wife."  
She held out her hand, and Sean took it and kissed it. "I think I have already found where Herr Mozart receives his inspiration from," he said. Constanze blushed.  
"Stop it," she said, but the blush stayed on her face for a while, and she couldn't stop smiling and glancing at him as she called for her husband.  
"Wolfie!" she said. When there was no response, she turned to them. "It was something of a late night last night," she said as explanation. "He was exhausted. Let me go wake him up." And with that she went out of the room.  
Salieri smiled at Sean. "That is another thing I am jealous of," he whispered conspiratorially, gesturing to the door that Constanze exited through. Sean grinned.  
"I can certainly understand why," said Sean.  
That moment, Constanze came out with Mozart in tow, his hair tousled from the pillow.  
"Herr Salieri, Herr Schmidt," he said, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "To what do I owe this unexpected and altogether far too early visit?"  
Salieri took the liberty of answering again. "Herr Schmidt wished to see your humble abode," he said, "and to see how your work can be so inspired, and where the inspiration comes from."  
Mozart swelled at these words. "Why, my work just comes to me," he said. "I never make copies, and I never make adjustments to my written work. There are never any errors to it, because it comes out onto the page completely finished in my head" He grinned as he pointed to his cranium.  
"How long would you say it usually takes you to put an entire symphony down on paper?" asked Sean, genuinely curious.  
Mozart shrugged. "I'm not really sure," he said. "I've never timed myself." His eyes brightened. "Shall we find out? I only have just gotten an idea for a brand new work. So new it will blow everything I have previously done completely out of the water!"  
Salieri interrupted. "But what about your German opera, Herr Mozart? For the emperor?"  
Mozart waved his words away. "The emperor can wait," he said dismissively. "This will be a fun experiment!"  
"How long would you say this piece will be?" asked Sean. "Only, that matters when we're taking the timing of it into account."  
Mozart thought for a moment. "It's about 45 minutes long," he said.  
Then Sean put the plan into action with his next words. "What say we make a small wager?" he asked.  
Mozart crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised. "I'm listening."  
Sean smiled, and winked at Salieri. "I bet that you can't get this piece written in two days, while still eating regular meals, and getting eight hours of sleep in between each day. And no writing during your meals," he added.  
Mozart scoffed. "Easy," he said. "What do you wager?"  
Sean considered for a moment, then smiled at Salieri. "I wager a night with your wife," he said, wagging his eyebrows.  
Mozart looked taken aback at this. "You mean, if I am unable to complete this task, I will allow you to spend a night with my wife?"  
"Doing whatever I choose to do with her," added Sean.  
Mozart steeled himself. "Very well," he said.  
"Wolfie!" said Constanze. "How could you? Betting me?"  
Mozart smiled at her. "Don't worry, my love," he said. "There's no way that I won't complete this task he's set me. Then I can get back to the opera for the emperor," he said to Salieri.  
Salieri looked at Sean, his eyebrows raised, then back to Mozart. "And what do you wish to have if you should complete the task?" he asked.  
Mozart considered this for a moment. "I want your position on the emperor's court."  
Salieri started at this. He looked positively affronted that such a thing would be suggested. "But the emperor chose me as his court composer personally, Herr Mozart," he said, attempting to control his anger.  
"And when I complete this task," said Mozart, "you will go to the emperor and tell him that I am a far better composer than you are, and you wish for me to take your place on his court."  
"Done," said Sean, and Salieri turned to glare at him.  
"What do you mean, done?" he said. "Don't you think this should be my decision, not some little upstart musician from God knows where?"  
Sean pulled Salieri aside. "Don't worry, Antonio," he said, using Salieri's Christian name in an attempt to appease him. "I'll ensure that he's unable to finish it. And I will keep tabs on him to ensure that he's caught working while eating."  
"You had better be right about this," said Salieri. "The emperor and I maintain a close friendship, as close as an emperor can possess with one of his subjects, and I will not have that jeopardized to satisfy your, and more importantly his," he said, gesturing to Mozart, "ego!"  
"Trust me," said Sean, and then he leaned in close to whisper in Salieri's ear. "His ego will be crushed after he fails to do this." He clapped Salieri on the shoulder and turned back to Mozart.  
"Do we have an accord?" asked Mozart pompously, and barely containing an already triumphant grin.  
Sean glanced at Salieri, who shrugged, though obviously still skeptical. "We do indeed," he said, sticking his hand out. Mozart shook it firmly, then offered his hand to Salieri.  
Salieri looked at Mozart's hand, then up to his face.  
Mozart looked at him pleadingly. "In the spirit of our rivalry and friendship," he begged. "I need a challenge such as this in order to keep me where I belong, at the top of everyone's thoughts and on the tip of everyone's tongues!"  
Salieri sighed. "Very well," he said, defeated. He shook Mozart's hand. Sean winked at Constanze.  
"I look forward to our night together," he said, taking her hand and kissing it again. Despite her previous objection to the wager, she blushed a furious red.  
"I suggest you get to work, Herr Mozart," said Sean, turning back to the young composer. "Dusk comes soon tomorrow."  
Without a word, Mozart whisked into another room, came back with quill, ink, and staffed paper, and sat himself at the desk. He didn't look up at them, he just started writing.  
Sean looked at Constanze. "Make sure he is eating regular meals. He is due for breakfast in one hour, lunch at one, and dinner at seven. He is to go to sleep promptly at ten tonight, and wake up at six tomorrow to continue working. His breakfast should be served at nine tomorrow morning, and lunch and dinner again at one in the afternoon and seven in the evening, respectively."  
He leaned in to her ear and whispered. "Be sure to give him some extra inspiration as well, as you see fit." He then kissed her on the cheek.  
She blushed again and pushed him away with one hand while touching her cheek where he kissed her with the other. "And you had better leave now, before I get ideas about what to do to inspire you!" she whispered so only he could hear her.  
With that, Sean bowed, and he and Salieri turned to leave.  
"Herr Schmidt?" said Mozart, not looking away from his work. Sean turned towards him.  
"Yes?" he said politely.  
"Don't think for a moment you're going to come away from this wager victorious," said Mozart, finally turning away from the paper in front of him and looking at Sean seriously. "I will not let you take away my wife's honor from her, or my own from me." He then waved them out, and turned back to the desk.  
Sean and Salieri left the Mozart family to themselves, and headed towards the palace.  
"It's not nearly quite as nice as your own home," said Sean to Salieri, jerking his head towards the building they had just left.  
"It comes with the privilege of being happily celibate, and devoting my life to God," said Salieri stiffly.  
"Why would you be jealous of that then?" asked Sean.  
The aged composer sighed. "Because, Herr Schmidt..." he started, "because they have each other."

For the next two days, Salieri and Sean did not discuss Mozart, and when the emperor asked where the great young composer was, Salieri averred that he was diligently working on the opera, as the emperor had requested. Joseph nodded at this, but still looked thoughtful, as though he wished he had made a different decision about something, though Sean couldn't say what.  
When the time came to leave the palace on the second day, Sean and Salieri both rode the carriage to the Mozart family's home. It was an hour after dusk when they arrived.  
They knocked on the door, and a bedraggled Constanze opened it.  
"Come in," she said. "We've been expecting you." Salieri and Sean exchanged a curious look. Constanze led them into the sitting room, where Mozart laid over the desk he had been working at, and there was a distinctly offensive odor about him. It was clear he had not taken time to bathe.  
"Has he eaten as was instructed?" asked Sean to Constanze, a little too sharply. She nodded. "And did he get his eight hours of sleep?" She nodded again.  
Sean's gaze softened. He had known, of course, that Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was many things, but he was not a cheat when his self-worth was on the line. And he had set a few of the street children a watch on the home to make sure that Mozart was doing other things besides working. And the things that the children reported were quite vulgar, to hear them tell it. Constanze had certainly taken care of her end of the bargain and kept Wolfgang busy, although not in the way the composer had necessarily wanted.  
Mozart, however much rest he had gotten, looked positively exhausted. He raised his head slightly at Sean's voice.  
"Well, Herr Schmidt," he said with a weak, and certainly not a triumphant smile, "come to gloat?"  
Sean looked perplexed. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Is it finished?"  
Mozart chuckled. "I told you, it's always been finished up here," he said, lifting his arm with a great effort to point at his head. "But alas, I was unable to put it on paper within the time you required I do it. The wager is yours."  
Salieri tried very hard to contain his glee at this news, and fortunately succeeded while they were in Mozart's home. Sean smiled. "I did not mean for the task to take such a great toll on you, Herr Mozart," he said, though of course this was exactly what he had wanted. And he could feel it in his heart that it was not only exhaustion that Mozart was feeling, but humility as well.  
Sean then told Mozart that he had no wish to take away Constanze's honor or his own, and conceded the wager.  
Pride had left him. And with Pride's departure from Mozart, Salieri felt no more jealousy of him, as it had now been proven that Mozart was human and could fail. So Envy was forced out of him as well.  
Salieri and Mozart remained good friends until illness took Mozart at the age of thirty six. This was how history remembered the composer, though in that time he died a pauper, and was buried in an unmarked grave. Sean attended the burial with Salieri and Constanze. He then left Vienna behind.  
He had not defeated Pride and Envy, not by a long shot, but he had definitely stalled them and given them something to think about.

There's Chapter 9, I'll post number 10 later tonight or tomorrow. Please read and review!


	11. An Audience with the Gods

Disclaimer: I don't DW, FMA, HP, or any of their characters. I love Hermione as Athena...and Benedict would have a great voice for a Pegasus!

Read and review!

Chapter Ten  
An Audience with the Gods

Stormageddon and I stepped onto the courtyard of Olympus. I was again at once overwhelmed at the sheer scale of it in comparison to the courtyard of the Parthenon in Athens, some miles below us. I stared around in awe. The buildings could easily house giants. The marble statues surrounding the courtyard were of an enormous proportion, to be sure. I had no doubt in my mind that the gods that these statues represented were of equal, if not greater, stature.  
As we approached Zeus' palace itself, I saw the statue of the king of the gods. It looked very much like the picture on the cover of the book I had read in the library. I craned my neck to see all of it.  
"A bit overwhelming," said Stormageddon. "Isn't it?"  
I could only nod. My jaw, I knew, was hanging open. Stormageddon didn't comment on it though, he only chuckled.  
We reached the palace steps and started to climb. It was then that I noticed how difficult it was for horses to climb such a steep flight of stairs, especially when the steps were so close to each other horizontally.  
"You'd think they would have installed a ramp," I muttered to Stormageddon, sounding a lot more calm than I felt.  
Stormageddon snorted, a very-horse like noise. "The gods are not very considerate of the physically handicapped," he said, "a practice that the Spartans follow religiously." He shook his head, a very un-horse like movement. "Even with Hephaestus without use of his legs, they can't make this easy on him."  
"What does he do?" I wondered. "To climb the steps, I mean."  
Stormageddon seemed to frown as he struggled to do the task himself. "I'm not quite sure," he said. "I know he doesn't come here too often. He spends most of his time in the forge. I imagine if Zeus needs him, he goes to him rather than expect him to come here."  
"That's considerate of him," I said reasonably.  
Stormageddon shook his head. "It is considered an honor to be invited to the king's palace. The fact that the king has to visit him is more of a slap in the face to Hephaestus."  
"How did he lose the use of his legs?" I asked, suddenly curious.  
Stormageddon halted. We were still only halfway up the steps. He looked at me as seriously as a Pegasus can look at a person, out of one eye. "I'm surprised you don't remember," he said. "It was his punishment for allowing fire to be stolen."  
I halted just as suddenly as the winged horse had. "Of course," I said, "it makes sense. Prometheus' theft gets ultimately blamed on the one who was responsible for the knowledge's safekeeping." I sighed. "I always hated my brother in law, even though the whole incident happened before I existed."  
Stormageddon began climbing again. "Do not worry for your own safety," he said. "Zeus has forgiven your transgression, and completely forgotten about Prometheus'. He will want to welcome you properly, however, so be prepared for...well, what he usually likes to do with mortals."  
I had been walking with him, but I stopped again. "Should I be worried about what he will do with me?" I asked, a tiny bit of fear creeping into my voice.  
Stormageddon shook his head. "No," he said. "He would release before anything really happened. He does have a reputation for promiscuity, but it stops there."  
We climbed the rest of the stairs in silence.  
We stopped at the top and I peered between the pillars, trying to see inside.  
"What do you think he wants to talk to me about?" I asked Stormageddon, nodding at the entrance.  
"That is for you to know when you enter," the Pegasus said cryptically.  
"But you do already know, right?" I asked impatiently.  
"Yes," he said.  
I sighed. This was very frustrating. I hated being a pawn to be jerked around by the gods.  
"You can only go forward by way of this path," he said. "You will always have to come back here, should you choose not to visit him today."  
I looked at the winged horse. "I don't have to go in there?"  
"Not right away," he said. "But eventually, yes, you do."  
I looked around. There was a pathway from the palace around to the other buildings around us, and we wouldn't have to go down the stairs. I squinted, trying to make out the details of the other buildings.  
I found what I was looking for. "Can we go there first?" I asked him, pointing to a particular building off the right. There was the statue of a goddess in front of it.  
Stormageddon looked at it, then at me. "You wish to see her?" he said. I nodded. "That may well prove to be a very wise decision. Come."  
We walked to the pathway that would lead us to the goddess' personal palace. It was not quite as large as Zeus', and it was built differently, but it made sense, when you took into account the person it belonged to.  
It only took us about five minutes to get there, and we didn't speak to each other on the way. I was thinking about what I would say to her and ask her. I'm sure Stormageddon was tired of all this walking, and wishing he could just fly over there.  
When we reached her palace, I gazed up at the statue. It wasn't quite as ostentatious as Zeus', just like the palace, but it perfectly exuded that quality which she was most famous for.  
I looked at Stormageddon, and he nodded at me. We walked forward and entered the palace.  
It was very odd. It looked sort of modern. I don't mean modern in terms of Ancient Greece. I mean modern in the terms of history, as in it reminded me of the twenty first century. There were books everywhere. There were even some I recognized from Agnes' library. I spotted the bespectacled young boy with the lightning scar from several different books on one prominently featured shelf.  
"This certainly isn't what I was expecting," I whispered to Stormageddon.  
"I have never been inside her palace," said Stormageddon. "Although what do you expect from-"  
He was cut off. "Athena, the goddess of wisdom?" The speaker was a woman of a delicate beauty, but she had seen things in her lifetime. I could tell by how deep her eyes were. The woman looked at Stormageddon. "You talk too loudly," she said with a slight smile. "This is a library, after all. People are trying to read."  
I looked around at this, and indeed, there were tables and chairs set up interspersed among the immense amount of shelves. There were people of all sorts wandering around and sitting in the chairs or at the tables, books in their laps or spread open on the table in front of them.  
I looked at the woman. She was quite young, or at least she looked it. She had bushy brown hair and big brown eyes. She wore a scarlet and gold dress, and she wore a curious necklace that had an hourglass. She looked nothing like the statue outside, but somehow I knew.  
"You're Athena," I said. "Aren't you?"  
She smiled at this. "You were always very clever. My doing, of course," she said bemusedly, but she said it with no sense of pride. It was simply a statement of fact. "A bit too curious for your own good, but that was our doing as well." She cast a glance in the direction of the palace, and I knew she was referring to Zeus and the whole debacle with the jar.  
Athena shook her head, and turned back to me. "Come," she said. "We have much to talk about." She turned and walked off through the mass of books. Stormageddon and I followed her as direct of a path as we could, due to the winged horse's bulk.  
We followed the goddess of wisdom out of the library and through another room. This room was full of weapons and armour. There were swords and shields, bows and arrows, staffs and gauntlets, breastplates and helms. Featured in a prominent place was an ordinary looking stick. An unbidden desire to look at it more closely came over me. I fought the urge this time. However, Athena went over and picked it up.  
She laughed at the confused look on my face. "I am the goddess of war as well as wisdom, Pandora," she said. "Ares does not have a monopoly on the weapons of Olympus. And this one," she said, indicating the stick, "is more powerful than anything that that old blowhard has in his arsenal combined."  
I frowned. Now I was more curious than ever about what the stick was. But I knew better than to ask.  
She seemed to sense my curiosity though, for she gave me a knowing smile, pointed the stick at the floor, and said, "Descendo."  
I wondered what that word meant, but didn't have to wait but a second to find out. The floor itself, or at least a part of it, lowered into a ramp. The opening and the ramp were wide enough to admit even Stormageddon. Without a word, Athena began walking down the ramp. I looked at the Pegasus nervously, and he nodded, clearly willing to follow wherever I had to go.  
I sighed and followed Athena down into the darkness. "Lumos," I heard her say, and a light appeared at the end of her stick.  
I suddenly realized that I had seen something like that stick before. It was on the cover of that book with the scarred boy.  
"Athena," I said nervously, "what exactly is that?"  
She didn't turn around, but she said, "This is a wand. It has the ability to channel magical energy." She looked over her shoulder as she kept walking. "I'm not only a goddess. I'm a witch too."  
Suddenly, we were at the bottom of the ramp. "Incendio!" said Athena, and fire shot from the tip of her wand and ignited several torches around the room that we were in.  
I blinked a few times so my eyes could adjust. Even with the torches, it was dimly lit. After a moment, I could make out a desk with a chair behind it. On the desk was some parchment, along with a quill and a bottle of ink. Athena and went to sit down in the chair. She immediately picked up the quill and began writing.  
"The thing about the gods," she said, not looking up from her writing, "is that there's a reason we're considered immortal."  
I looked at Stormageddon. He looked back at me, seeming to be just as confused as I was. We looked back at Athena. "What would that be, er...your highness?"  
She looked up at me, rolling her eyes. "Oh please," she said. "I'm not like Zeus. You don't have to call me anything but Athena. That's my name, and that's what I would like you to use when you address me."  
I took a small step back. She shook her head. "And you don't have to be afraid of me either."  
"Yes, Athena," I said, a quiver of fear still managing to escape in my voice. "So why are the gods considered immortal?" I stopped. "Wait," I said. "Considered immortal? You mean you're not really?"  
Athena shook her head. "No, and we never have been. The gods are appointed by themselves. I have not always been Athena. The previous Athena actually saw something in me that made her choose me as her replacement when she was about to die."  
I was floored by this news. "When were you chosen?" I asked.  
"Not long after I got out of school," she said. "Of course, it's been centuries since then, and it will be centuries until it happens again. Granted, we are given an exceptionally long life span, which gives me a wonderful amount of time to commit to studying." She nodded in the direction of the library. "You may have even noticed the biography of an old friend of mine."  
"So you were brought back in time as well to be the new Athena?" She nodded. "And this is true of all the gods?"  
She sighed. "All of us, yes, though there is one of us that is as close to immortal as one can be."  
"Zeus," said Stormageddon.  
Athena nodded. "The current Zeus was chosen by the first one to take advantage of the already long life span he had, and it's now been multiplied the same amount that my own was when I was chosen." She shrugged. "I'm not quite sure what happened, but I heard that the current Zeus, before he was Zeus, was killed, then brought back to life somehow. Since that time, there were multiple incidents where he should have died, but he never did. Or he did, but only a few minutes before he simply woke up again."  
I had no idea what she was talking about. "Should I be fear Zeus?"  
She rolled her eyes. "For all his boasting, while he is very dangerous, he's mainly a massive flirt."  
I snorted. Stormageddon turned to me. "I told you so," he said in his rich voice.  
"So the homunculi have gotten out of the box again, I take it?" said Athena, all business again. I nodded. "Along with you?"  
I nodded. "Though I'm not sure exactly how I got inside the box in the first place, Athena."  
"I'm afraid," began Athena, "that information lies still far in the future."  
"Do you mean the future from this particular point in time?" I asked. "Or do you mean my own personal future?"  
"Both," said Athena simply. "It is not a great thing to have the gift of prophecy, and it can be very dangerous to know too much about the future, especially your own. I know what becomes of you, and I fear it. I will not tell it to you, for then you may go to great lengths to avoid it. Unfortunately that path would ultimately lead you to fulfill it. While you are still unaware of it, you may yet rewrite it, and create your own future free of the chains of time."  
I stared. I was very confused, but I knew that I would not learn how I ended up in the box from Athena.  
"What will Zeus want from me?" I asked, changing the subject.  
Athena smiled. "Oh, besides the usual, he'll merely want to talk. He may offer advice, but take it with a grain of salt, and do not always take him at his word. He has led you astray before."  
I nodded. "Thank you, Athena." I bowed politely. "Is there anything else you wish to tell me before I go?"  
She shook her head. "Only that I wish you the good will of all free folk." She inclined her head to me, and I understood that our interview was over. Stormageddon and I turned to leave.  
"Wait, Pegasus," said Athena. "I wish to speak with you alone. Pandora must speak to Zeus by herself as well."  
The winged horse turned slowly. "My name," he said in a lower voice than usual, "is Stormageddon."  
The goddess inclined her head. "Be that as it may, Stormageddon, I can not allow you to accompany Pandora when she speaks to Zeus. He has invited her and her alone. You may yet meet him one day, but it is not this day." She allowed herself a small smile. "And when you do, you may wish you hadn't. He's been known to sleep with beasts as well as men."  
Stormageddon shivered visibly. He turned to me. "Go in peace," he said. "I grant you what strength and courage I can give."  
I turned and went without a word.

_

After I climbed out of Athena's secret chamber, I looked around the armory to see if there was anything I could use against Zeus should I need to defend myself. Then I shook my head. That was a ridiculous notion. If Zeus wanted to do anything to me, he could do it, and I would be utterly powerless to stop him. Besides, I thought, if I thought to bring a weapon, he might kill me on the spot.  
I left the armory and into the library. I passed several other books I had recognized from Agnes' library in the future, but my eyes were always drawn back to the boy wizard.  
Athena had said that was a friend of hers. I hoped one day to read about this Harry Potter, and I hoped his trials were much easier to deal with than my own.  
I exited Athena's palace and walked along the pathway back to Zeus'. I was still in awe over the size of the whole thing. I wondered if the current Zeus looked anything like the giant statue.  
I steeled myself in front of the entryway when I got to it, and walked in.  
"You're late," said a voice that was distinctly American, rather snarky, and didn't sound at all like I would have expected the king of the gods to sound.  
"I...I'm sorry," I stammered, stepping forward. I was in a very large chamber, with no doors or anything off to the sides, just massive pillars all around and one small figure on a small throne at the other end of the massive space. I imagined he couldn't be that small, and it was just a trick of the distance.  
"I hope you're not expecting something the size of that statue out there," said the man on the throne. "There's only one part of me that's that big, and no, you can't see it."  
I walked forward. The man was definitely not the size of the statue, and he didn't really look anything like the statue either. For one, he didn't look very old. He didn't have a beard. And the most striking difference was what he was wearing. While the statue was dressed in traditional Greek clothing, the man was wearing a heavy coat that had metal buttons on it, black shoes, black pants, and a shirt with harnesses over the shoulders. He had a winning smile that was nothing akin to the grim look of the statue outside, or the picture on the library book.  
"Hi," he said, flashing that smile at me as I approached. He was normal-sized, much like Athena. "I'm Captain Ja...sorry, force of habit. Call me Zeus," he said, and extended a hand.  
I reached out for it and shook it tentatively.  
"There's no need to be scared of me," he said. "I know my reputation, and I certainly live up to it in most cases." He flashed his smile again. I didn't know it was possible to show all your teeth at once without opening your mouth. Then he grew serious, or as serious as I assumed he could get. "But you're a special case. I respect you. Or at least, I respect you a lot more than I respect most people. I respect you more than even the people around here. Well, except for Athena." He shivered. "Her, I'm scared of. Did you see her wand?"  
I nodded, but he didn't seem to really be paying attention. I think he just liked to hear his own voice.  
"So, you're the one who opened the box originally, huh?" he said, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. "That's what the last Zeus told me anyway." He sat up quickly. "I assume that Athena already told you all about the whole we're immortal thing, right?" I nodded. "Good," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I wouldn't have wanted to let that cat out of the bag myself. Then I'd be in real trouble."  
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Aren't you the king of the gods?"  
He nodded. "Yes, I am," he said. "But I still have someone that I have to answer to. He sort of keeps me in check." He winked. "You've dealt with him before, I think."  
I was confused. "Do you mean the old Zeus? Isn't he dead?"  
Zeus shook his head. "No, I'm not talking about him. He's most definitely dead. I'm talking about someone else. Though I suppose I shouldn't reveal it to you if you don't know about it yet. It may still be in your future, and he always hates it when people know too much of the future."  
"Athena said much of the same thing," I said.  
He nodded. "And she is very right. So I can't really say anything about it." He narrowed his eyes at me. "It's very odd though," he said. "It seems that it's already part of your past, but it has yet to happen." He stroked his chin. "It's a paradox." He shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "Man, I hate those things. The last time I had to fix one of those, I ended up dying so many times I lost count."  
I was more lost than before. I decided to bring up the matter at hand.  
"So can you tell me about those creatures?" I asked. "Can you tell me about Wrath and Greed? What did you say to Wrath?"  
"That is between me and him," he said. "And they're not the only ones of their kind. They may have mentioned Lust?" I nodded. "There's also Pride, Envy, Gluttony, and Sloth."  
"Who are they?" I asked. "Greed told me a little about them, and he said that they have a master of their own."  
Zeus nodded. "Their master is basically the antithesis of the person I am loyal to." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Oddly enough, the last time I dealt with a paradox, he was heavily involved in that one too." He shook his head and looked at me. "The point is, those creatures are incredibly dangerous."  
"But what are they?" I asked. "I know they're very dangerous, because they've already made me kill people."  
Zeus sat up at this. "They made you kill already?" I nodded, suddenly fearful. He sat back. "Well, there's nothing we can do about that now," he said, biting his lip. "What we can do is try to prepare for the next time they try to take control of you."  
"You still haven't told me what they are," I said, feeling a slight sense of exasperation."  
"Sorry," he said. "They're called homunculi, and they are named after the seven deadly sins in the bible. You know about the bible, right?"  
I nodded. Though I hadn't read it, I had noticed it in the libraries I had visited.  
"Well, they are the physical incarnations of those sins, and as you already know, can impress their influence on other beings, so that they can carry out the things they represent. Their master won't let them do anything themselves. They physically can't."  
"Greed told me this," I said. "It was while we were waiting for Wrath to return and for you to summon me." I cocked my head to the side. "I still want to know what you and Wrath were talking about."  
Zeus shook his head. "I can't tell you. That would be talking about your future and your past, and you have to come to the knowledge of that naturally. Otherwise, it would destroy two thirds of the universe." He shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
"Your boss told you to say that, huh?" I asked.  
He nodded. "And he knows what he's talking about, even if I don't," he said. "I don't go against his word. He's been saving the universe a lot longer than I have."  
I knew that was all I was going to get on that subject, so I asked a different question. "What was your name before you were Zeus?"  
He smiled. It was that smile that had probably seduced many women, and probably men as well. "I was called Captain Jack Harkness," he said. "But even that wasn't my real name. Even my boss doesn't know my name before that." He grew serious again. "Now, about the homunculi...we have to find Hope."  
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Like we have to hope that we beat them?" I was confused.  
Zeus shook his head. He had been doing that a lot during this conversation. I felt like I had been getting a lot of things wrong. Though I supposed it didn't really matter. I was learning something, after all.  
"I mean we have to have Hope in order to defeat them, and trap them, and put them back inside the box." He pointed at me. "And that's where you come in," he said. "You have to find Hope for us."  
I had no idea what he was talking about. "Where is it?" I asked. "How am I supposed to find it when gods can't even find it?"  
He shrugged. "We don't know where it is. We know where it isn't, at least, and that's in the box where it was originally. You have to find out where it went when it left that box."  
"It was a jar," I corrected him. He waved my words away.  
"Jar, then," he said. "Find the jar first, and find out what happened to the Hope that was inside it." He looked at me seriously. "You are our only hope of achieving this." He smiled that smile again, giddy at his own cleverness.  
"Okay, so where is the jar?" I asked.  
"Check where you left it," he said. He stood up, and took my hand again. He bent down and pressed his lips to the back of it. I almost felt like swooning.  
He smiled again. "I held back," he said. "Special case, remember?" He let go of my hand and looked me in the eyes. "Good luck," he said. And I knew that it was time for me to go. I turned and walked out of the massive chamber.  
He called after me, "Take the horse with you!"  
"His name is Stormageddon!" I yelled over my shoulder. When I turned back around to face the exit, I could see the Pegasus standing just outside, and I swear he was smiling.  
I grinned at him and ran to him. He bent his head and I threw my arms around his neck. "Let's get out of here," I whispered, and hopped onto his back.  
He didn't even bother taking the stairs this time. Stormageddon opened his wings and leapt from the top step into the sky, me clinging onto him and wishing we had just walked.


	12. The Pizza and the Aftermath

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or Full Metal Alchemist. I own this story only. Some events refer to real places and experiences, but should be taken with a grain of salt. This is fiction, after all.

Read and review please!

Chapter Eleven  
The Pizza and the Aftermath

Sean returned to his own time from Vienna, and spent the next several days catching up on sleep, work, and catching up with his family. He couldn't think about the homunculi for a while. He just didn't want to.  
After several days, he decided to start searching online for other occurrences in history that would seem odd. Not long after he started searching, something popped up in his email from the Doctor. It was a video link.  
Sean pulled up the link and pressed play. It was the Doctor and Martha from inside the TARDIS.  
"Hey, Sean!" said the Doctor. "We've been scoping around the future for a while now, and haven't found anything yet that has happened between your time and ours. They may have gone further in the future."  
"We did find something interesting for you to look at, though," said Martha, interrupting. "Check the page that we attached to this email. It's definitely something to do with Sloth, and it's happening not too long before your time, maybe about a year."

"The news article is about this thing that happened in a town in America called Chilton," said the Doctor. "It's somewhere in Texas, so you can look up the coordinates online, after you've checked out the article."  
"See you soon, Sean," said Martha. "Er, relatively speaking of course," she added with a smile.  
The video player stopped. Sean went back to the email and clicked on the page that was attached. It was an article about a town that had mysteriously fallen under a sleeping sickness and had died from malnourishment and atrophy.

"It's as if they were all just too lazy to get out of bed," said a former teacher in Chilton's high school. "I could tell you that it was normal, but this was extreme even for these people."  
The former teacher had been visiting a friend that lived near the school, and had noticed a foul odor emanating from the houses in the surrounding neighborhoods.  
"All of the animals were lying dead on the lawns, skinny as bean pole," said the teacher, who preferred to remain anonymous. "It's like people forgot to feed them. There were dogs, cats, even horses."  
He called the police in a town not far away, and an investigation went under way, and soon discovered that all of the townspeople had died in their beds. They had swollen bellies that were indicative of starvation and malnourishment.  
"And they stank, too," said the police sergeant.  
Memorial services for the town members will be held next week.

Sean sat up from the article. "Well, that seems interesting enough to check out," he said. He looked up the coordinates of the town online. He found out it was an incredibly small place. The school was in the center of town and the football stadium was two blocks away on the edge of town.  
Sean input the coordinates into the vortex manipulator and checked the article for the date. He input a date about a month before the date of the article. That should be enough time to find out what was going to happen to the people and try to stop it.  
He took a bit of time to ensure that he had his return coordinates and date and time, then ordered a pizza for dinner. From what he had seen in the article and online about the town, there wasn't a decent restaurant within thirty miles of the place.  
While he waited for the pizza, he took a shower and brushed his teeth, making sure that the vortex manipulator was close by the whole time.  
The doorbell rang while he was drying off, and he grabbed his wallet, wrapping the towel around his waist. He gave the pizza delivery guy a twenty dollar bill and told him to keep the change.  
"But the pizza's only ten dollars, sir," said the delivery guy. He looked to be in his late teens, probably just out of high school.  
"Don't worry about it," said Sean. The kid probably needed the money a lot more than he did. "Put it towards college books."  
The kid grinned. "Thanks, mister!" and he turned and was about to run back to his car when he turned back to Sean. "Oh, I almost forgot. Here's something I was asked to give you. I didn't read it or anything."  
It was a note. Sean looked at it, confused. "Who gave this to you?" he asked.  
The kid shrugged. "Some lady that was standing outside my store," he said. "I didn't get her name." He winked. "She was kind of easy on the eyes though, if you know what I mean. She said she'd give me something for my trouble when I got back." He turned and walked back to his car. "Have a great day, sir!" he called over his shoulder. There was a bit of a bounce in his step, and it was clear that he was hoping the woman outside of the store would keep her word and still be there when he got back.  
Sean frowned. Something didn't sit right about the whole situation. He closed the door and set the pizza on the table. He went and got dressed and put the vortex manipulator on. He sat down and looked at the note that the delivery guy had given him.

"Keep out of our business, and we'll keep out of yours. There are consequences for meddling in affairs that you do not understand. This boy will suffer for your actions."

Sean stood up. He knew who it had been at the store that had given the boy the note. He had to get there before the boy did. He left the house, and the pizza lay forgotten on the table. Hopefully he would get to share the pizza with the kid after he saved his life.  
He jumped in his car and sped off towards the pizza joint. It wasn't far, but the route went through back roads that were only a certain speed limit and was always watched by police. Sean drove as fast as he dared to, and tried not to cut too many corners.  
Around one bend in the road where there was very tall grass on both sides was the pizza delivery guy's car. Sean's heart went into his throat. The car was rocking violently, as though there was a massive struggle going on inside.  
Sean pulled up behind the car and got out. He ran to the side and yanked the back door open. A woman was on top of the kid, who was lying in the backseat. His pants were at his feet, and the woman's clothes were disheveled. The kid wasn't moving, and blood was pooled around his throat, which appeared to have been torn out.  
"Get off of him, Lust," Sean growled in a voice that didn't sound like his own at all. It surprised him that he could sound like that.  
The woman turned around. Of course it was Lust, and her mouth was dripping red, where her teeth had ripped out the poor kid's throat. She grinned wickedly at Sean, blood seeping between her teeth.  
"Or you'll do what?" she asked tauntingly. "Are you going to make me?"  
"He didn't have to die," said Sean. "He had no part in this, why did you have to kill him?" He looked at her waist, where his stiff penis was still buried inside her. "And you're a necrophiliac too? That's disgusting."  
"At least he died happy," she said. "And that is much more than I can say for how you'll die. I have no intention of giving you the pleasure he was getting before I tore out his throat."  
Sean acted without thinking. His arm lashed out and slapped her across the face. Then his hands grabbed her head and he twisted with all of his might. There was a loud crack, and her body went limp, falling on top of the delivery boy's body.  
Sean reached down and pulled her off of the boy, wincing as a squelching sound announced the separation of their intimate parts. He threw her body to the ground and checked the boy's pulse.  
It was no use. The boy was most definitely dead. Nobody could survive their throat being torn out like that. She had nearly completely decapitated him. His head was only being held onto the rest of his body by his spinal column.  
Sean did the only thing he could think of at the time. He called the police and told them what he had found. He didn't tell them that the woman had been a homunculus. They would have thought him crazy. He told them that he had tried to pull the woman off of the boy and that he had broken her neck in the struggle.  
The police told him to wait there and not go anywhere. He agreed. There wasn't much he could do. Chilton would wait, he thought. He went back and sat down in his car to await the cops' arrival.  
As he sat, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. They snapped back open almost instantly, having noticed something odd.  
The woman was getting up, and while her head lolled a little bit to the side, she looked fine. She struck the top of her head hard with the butt of her hand, and it seemed to snap the neck back into place. Her head was back on straight. She turned around and smiled at him. She covered herself back up, having still been exposed from seducing the boy, then she dove headlong into the tall grass.  
Sean watched this all, open-mouthed. He had known that these creatures would be hard to kill, but he had thought that it would be impossible to survive a broken neck, no matter how tough you were. And it would certainly be impossible to stand back up and snap it back into place, even if she did survive it.  
He was still staring at the place she had disappeared when three police cars showed up. Six policemen got out and observed the whole scene. After a moment's hesitation, all six drew their firearms and leveled them at Sean.  
"Step out of the vehicle and put your hands in the air!" the leader yelled at him.  
Sean had no choice but to comply. This would certainly get in the way of his getting to Chilton.

The police read him his rights, handcuffed him, and loaded him into one of their cruisers. Sean didn't say a word the entire time. He knew anything that he would say would be held against him in the court of law, and they would not believe him anyway, or just think him insane. He was beginning to think himself insane as it was.  
What had he been thinking? It wasn't his place to sign up to save the world from the homunculi. Why had the Doctor recruited him to do anything about it? Why couldn't the Doctor and Martha take care of all this on their own? They had dealt with it all before, anyway.  
He shook his head. If he managed to get out of this situation, he would be incredibly surprised. Fortunately, in the instruction manual for the vortex manipulator, there had been a way to make it so that he was the only person that could remove it from his wrist, short of someone cutting his arm off at the elbow, and he sincerely hoped that the police wouldn't resort to that. They would, of course, try to take it off of him, but when they found out that they couldn't, they would most certainly ask him what it was and where he had gotten it from.  
In the meantime, he couldn't manipulate it at all with his hands handcuffed behind his back. They were in a position where he could just barely touch the edge of the vortex manipulator, but nothing more could be done with it. He just had to wait until they uncuffed him and weren't pointing guns at him. That might not happen for a while.  
The police were talking to each other over the radios as they drove back to the police station. It was a lot of code, but he distinctly heard the word "psychotic" leave their lips, along with "lying scum" and "sick fucking bastard". That probably had to do with the fact that the delivery boy had been found with his pants down.  
There was nothing Sean could do about their opinions of him. He could only hope to escape their notice long enough to push the button that would take him to Chilton.  
They arrived at the station, and the police yanked Sean none too gently out of the backseat, bumping his head on the roof of the car in the process. They led him inside, and sat him down inside an interrogation room by himself.  
Sean looked at the one-way mirror, knowing that he was being observed from the other side. He said nothing. He didn't have to if he didn't want to. That was one of the rights that had been read to him.  
After a few minutes, a man with a bow tie walked in, followed by a young woman in a black skirt and blouse. Sean recognized them as they came in, but said nothing and made no sign of recognition.  
"Well, now," said the man. "What have we here?"  
Sean said nothing. "Oh, right," said the man, and he took out a small device. He pressed a button on it, and it made a distinct buzzing sound. Sean noticed no difference.  
"It's okay, Sean, we can talk freely now," said the Doctor. "I've short-circuited their microphones and video cameras, and that window is now a mirror on both sides." He smiled. "But the mirror on their side is showing them a picture of me giving you a stern talking-to, and they're hearing it come out of their speakers."  
Sean didn't say anything to this. It could all be a trick. The Doctor could believe him a criminal, or insane, and want him to admit what really happened so the police could hear him, or it might not be the Doctor and Martha at all, and just the homunculi shape-shifted into them. So Sean stayed silent.  
The Doctor sighed. "Okay, you don't believe me, understandable. Well, how about this?" And the Doctor stood up, his sonic screwdriver raised in his right hand, and he said, "This is a thermal detonator, and it has the power to blow up this whole block and kill thousands of people!"  
Nothing happened. The police didn't come storming in to tackle the madman in the bow tie. Sean shifted in his seat. He still wasn't sure.  
Martha looked him in the eye. "Trust me, Sean, it's us," she said. She leant over and kissed him. There didn't seem to be any sense of deceit around it.  
Sean nodded. "Okay," he said. "I swear that I didn't kill that kid. It was Lust, she just..."  
The Doctor cut him off. "We know what happened," he said, holding up a newspaper clipping. "Local man arrested for murder in pizza delivery case." Sean scowled at the headline. "Yes," said the Doctor. "Not a very nice likeness of you," he added, pointing at the picture. "We read between the lines of what happened, and it seemed that you had been in the midst of coming to save him, unfortunately the police caught you literally red-handed." He nodded at Sean's blood stained hands where he had tried to find the kid's pulse.  
Sean hung his head. "I should never have ordered that pizza," he said. He looked back at the time traveling pair. "I didn't even get the kid's name. It's my fault that he's dead."  
Martha shook her head. "Don't think like that," she said. "It was them that did, and it's them that are gonna pay."  
"What we have to do right now," said the Doctor, "is get you out of here."  
"How are we going to do that?" asked Sean. He stood up and shoved his cuffed hands into the Doctor's face. "I'm kind of locked up at the moment."  
The Doctor smirked. "Only too easy," he said. He was still holding the sonic screwdriver. He pressed the button on it and it made its buzzing noise and instantly the hand cuffs came loose and fell to the table.  
"Okay," said Sean, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had been cutting off the circulation to his hands. "That was mildly impressive. Now what about getting me past the police?"  
The Doctor frowned. "Don't you trust me yet, Sean?" His smile brightened. "We're going to arrest you!"  
Sean's shoulders drooped. "I'm already arrested," he said. "How will getting arrested again help me get out of here?"  
"Well, first of all, you're going to need to put the hand cuffs on again," said the Doctor. "Just make sure that you don't put them on as tight as they were on earlier, we don't want your hands to fall off now."  
When Sean had done this, the Doctor grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him up roughly. "Play along, now," he said, and he buzzed the sonic screwdriver again.  
"We're taking you to where you'll never see the light of day again!" shouted the Doctor. "You sick...sick person!"  
Martha joined in. "You're a raving lunatic, how could you do such a thing?"  
They exited the room, and Sean put on the craziest face he thought he could muster. The police backed away. "Get that psycho out of here!" one sergeant cried, nearly falling over in his chair in his haste to get away.  
The Doctor and Martha marched a progressively crazier Sean out of the police station and down the street. Citizens moved out of the way. The trio turned the corner, out of view of the police station, and then the Doctor stopped. He buzzed the handcuffs open with his sonic screwdriver, and took Sean's hand and led him into the TARDIS, which was standing right in front of them. Martha followed close behind, shutting the door behind them.  
"We need to go after Lust," said Sean instantly.  
The Doctor shook his head. "She's long gone by now," he said.  
"But the pizza guy..." Sean began.  
"Is beyond our help now," said Martha. "I know it's hard to understand, and harder to accept, but revenge is what they want from you for this."  
The Doctor nodded. "It will make it much easier for them to control you, and in this situation in particular, Wrath would have a field day with your emotions. You could lash out at one of us, for example."  
"But she was dead," said Sean, exasperated. "I killed her with my bare hands! I snapped her neck, and she just got up and reset it like it was no big deal!"  
The Doctor nodded and put a hand on Sean's shoulder. "They can't be killed by conventional means, Sean," he said. "That's why I said you needed Hope to defeat them. And we can only defeat them. They will never die, because they must always exist."  
"But why?" asked Sean.  
"So Hope can have something to fight against," said the Doctor simply. "Otherwise, Hope loses its purpose for being, and thus ceases to be itself."  
Sean sat down. This was just too much for him to handle. "So what do we do then?"  
The Doctor looked at Martha, then back to Sean. "Well, we have to get back to the future. We only came back when we found that article, so we could go about getting you out of your predicament. Now we have to find out what they're up to in the future."

"Have you found them in the future yet?" asked Sean. "Like, at all?"  
The Doctor and Martha shook their heads. "Either we're not going far enough in the future, as the Doctor says," said Martha, "or they only every appeared in the past from this point."  
"What, you mean like, they can only become a part of history that has already happened from the moment they were let out of the box?" said Sean.  
"Something like that, yeah," said the Doctor with his arms crossed. He almost looked to be sulking. "But I'm still not sure. Your next task is to get to the bottom of what happened in Chilton, Texas. Understand?

"Sean nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Can you both come to my house for dinner though? I ordered pizza and it's just sitting on the table right now." He grinned.  
Martha looked at the Doctor, and she grinned too. The Doctor grinned. "Pizza is cool," he said.


	13. The Search for Pandora's Box

Disclaimer: I don't own it, so don't presume that I do. Read and review please!

Chapter Twelve  
The Search for Pandora's Box

Stormageddon and I flew down the mountainside and over the site where we had originally met and where Greed and I had shared our lunch while waiting for Wrath. There was no sign of either of the two homunculi, nor Wrath's companion. I decided that I wanted to land there.  
When we came to a stop, I dismounted and reached up to pat Stormageddon's flank. He nickered softly.  
I looked around for any remaining pieces of the wild pig that Greed had killed and cooked. I hadn't realized it on Olympus, but now I was ravenously hungry. I could have eaten the whole pig, I think, given the chance.  
Unfortunately, I could see no remains. Greed or Wrath or their companion could have taken the remnants with them, or destroyed them, or something. I just knew there was none left for me.  
I sighed and climbed back on Stormageddon's back. He didn't take off, he just walked slowly toward Athens in the distance, careful not to jostle me. He could sense my discomfort at having to ride, but knew that it would take too long to get there by having us both walk. I could tell he was hungry as I was. I would have been fine with him flying us there, but he seemed insistent on providing my rear end some rest from the flight down.  
We rode in silence for a while, and I thought that we could grab some food for ourselves while we were in town. Nobody would notice me anyway, having been brought here by the homunculi, and everyone having forgotten about me.  
"Where do you remember leaving the jar?" asked Stormageddon suddenly, pulling me from my thoughts about food and sadness.  
I thought for a moment. "I know where I remember having it and opening it," I said. "I don't necessarily remember actually leaving it anywhere though."  
He snorted. I don't know if it was out of disgust at me having opened the jar in the first place, or derisiveness at me not being able to remember what happened to it. Either way, it annoyed me.  
"Hey, I'm doing the best I can to make up for my mistake," I said. "The least you can do is not be berating me for something I can't control anymore."  
"I actually had a bug fly up my nose," said Stormageddon stiffly. "I sneezed."  
"Oh," I said, feeling mollified. "Sorry."  
"That's all right," said the Pegasus. "I understand your frustration. We'll find it though, don't worry."  
I smiled, even though he couldn't actually see it with me on his back. "Thanks, Stormageddon," I said.  
We rode into the polis in silence after that. Heads turned at our approach.  
'Oh, they must see him,' I thought to myself. 'He's in his own timeline right now, and they're probably used to him.'  
But the faces that looked at Stormageddon were not friendly. They weren't even in awe over the fact that a messenger and steed of the gods was in their midst. Mostly, they just looked at him coldly. Every now and again, though, their eyes would flicker up to me, as though wondering who I was and what I was doing there.  
I frowned and leaned forward. "I think they can see me," I whispered in Stormageddon's ear.  
"Why shouldn't they be able to see you?" he asked.  
"Because they couldn't before, when Wrath and Greed were leading me through here," I said.  
"They probably created an illusion for the onlookers," said Stormageddon wisely. "Or disguised themselves and you somehow."  
I nodded thoughtfully. At that moment, I heard a familiar voice calling out.  
"Pandora! Pandora!" I turned my head quickly, wondering who remembered me and who on earth would even want to speak to me out of these people. Then I saw her.  
A young woman was running in our direction, smiling gleefully up at me. I knew that I knew here, but I couldn't remember who she was, or how I knew her.  
"Pandora!" she cried again. "It's good to see you!" She came to a stop about ten feet away, eyeing Stormageddon warily. "How on earth did you capture one?"  
I stared, confused. "Capture one what?" I asked. "What do you mean?"  
She gestured at my steed. "A Pegasus, of course!" she said. "They're supposed to be impossible to catch, due to the fact that they can fly and they're messengers of the gods."  
I rolled my eyes. "Well, then, stop creating a fantasy," I said. "They're still impossible to capture."  
"I am allowing her to ride me," said Stormageddon dangerously. "You would be wise to not treat me as a simple beast. Now, state who you are, and what your purpose with my friend is."  
I looked at him. Clearly, he was able to tell from my speech that I didn't actually remember this girl.  
The girl started. "But Pandora," she said, looking a little hurt. "You know me. It's Anysia. We've been friends for years." She looked down and kicked at the ground. "And then you disappeared a few years ago, and nobody's heard from you since."  
I could feel my shoulders sag. This was truly my friend, and she had missed me.  
"Where is everyone else?" I asked tentatively. I couldn't remember anybody else's name, just as I hadn't remembered hers, but I remembered faces.  
She smiled, happy to catch me up on gossip. "Well, Lyra and Zita are married now," she said. "Not to each other, you understand, but to two men from Sparta. They're in Sparta right now while their husbands are off at war."  
"And you?" I asked. "Are you wed?"  
She shook her head. "No man has yet to claim this hand," she said, and she winked slyly, "or my maidenhead."  
I laughed. Yes, I could remember having such conversations with Anysia before. They brought back happy memories of Greece in the past, before I opened the jar. Then I asked the question I had been afraid to ask since I had arrived in this time.  
"What of Epimetheus?" I asked. "What has become of my husband?"  
Anysia kicked at the ground. It was clear that she didn't want to answer because it would upset me. "Tell me," I implored. "Please, I must know."  
She looked up at me, into my eyes, and there was fear in them, and sorrow. "Sophia," she said.  
My world disintegrated around me. I had loved Epimetheus, and I had thought he would wait for me, no matter how long it took. Now I learned that he had left the memory of me behind and married Sophia, who I had never really gotten along with except for show.  
"You must understand," said Anysia. "You were gone, and nobody knew where to. We looked everywhere. We prayed to the gods for answers. We prayed for them to send a sign that you were all right! We never received an answer." She shrugged. "Sophia saw her chance, and swept in to comfort him. He was devastated at your loss, you have to believe me."  
I nodded numbly. "Do they still live in our home?" I asked.  
She nodded. "I don't think going there is the best idea," she said. "It would open up old wounds, and there may be hostilities."  
"I don't want to see them," I said. It was hard for me to breathe. "They forgot about me. I just want to see my home. There's something there that I need to see."  
Anysia nodded. "Okay. I can get them out of the house so you can find this object uninterrupted. Out of curiosity, what is it you're looking for?" she asked. She was looking at me a little too knowingly. "Does this have anything to do with that jar that was given to you by the gods?"  
I nodded. "Yes," I said. She didn't need to know more about it.  
She sighed. "All right," she said. "I'll see what I can do. I may even ask Epimetheus still has it, so if you can't find it, we can know what he did with it."  
"I suppose that will work," I said. "But don't imply that I'm back and looking for it. Ask him in such a way that you were just thinking about the past and you wanted the jar for yourself. Try not to bring the subject of me up. They might get suspicious."  
She nodded. "I'll do my best. Give me about an hour," she said. She reached out and grasped my hand. Then she tentatively patted Stormageddon on his neck. He showed his teeth, and she backed away.  
He laughed. "Do not fear, human," he said. "You are my companion's friend, and I trust her. Therefore, I trust you. Do not make me regret that trust."  
She inclined her head. "I won't," she said. "What is your name?" she asked.  
"Stormageddon," I answered for him. "That's the name he chose for himself."  
Anysia grinned. "It was good to meet you, Stormageddon," she said. "I'll see you both soon." She ran off.  
I dismounted and looked at Stormageddon. "I'm starving," I said. "What about you?"  
He nodded. "I could go for a whole bushel of apples right about now," he said.  
"Let's see what we can find in the meantime," I said. So we went through the market and I managed to barter some food for us. Most people skirted us, still eying Stormageddon icily. They clearly didn't trust anything to do with the gods. I suppose the gods hadn't shown their faces for some time in the mortal world.  
Some people, however, seemed genuinely intrigued at the fact that I had a Pegasus as a mount. Some even offered him food, and he even got some sugar cubes out of the deal. He greatly appreciated that.  
After we were fed and rested a bit, we headed towards my old home. We stopped a few houses away from it, and I turned to him.  
"Is it all right," I asked, "if I go in there on my own? I need to deal with this part by myself."  
He nodded. "Go," he said. "I'll be right outside if you need me."  
I hugged him around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," I whispered.  
I then turned and went inside. Instantly I was back in the time when Epimetheus and I were together. I could see him sitting in the chair at his work table. He smiled up at me. As I went to him, the vision faded, and it wasn't me he was standing up to greet with open arms, but Sophia. Rage began to cloud my vision, but I fought against it. I didn't want to become ensnared by Wrath again.  
I shook my head to clear it, and the vision of them embracing faded completely, and I was faced with an empty house. I walked around, trying to remember where I had last seen the jar.  
I found nothing, however. I looked in the bedroom, outside where we had our bath, and in the kitchen where I had cooked. No jar that I could recall seeing before.  
I was just about to leave, when a length of cloth caught my eye. It was clearly covering  
something. I walked over to it and lifted it with trepidation.  
There it was. I stared at it, expecting to be flooded with emotion. I couldn't feel anything though, not even joy about having found it.  
I frowned. Was this an effect that the homunculi were having on me? Surely, that must be it. Or maybe it was because there was nothing in it, so nothing could be felt from it or about it. Zeus had said that Hope was no longer in it.  
I decided to open it just to be entirely certain. The lid came off easily. It was actually much easier to open than I had remembered. Before, there were other forces trying to keep it closed, Zeus' order to not open it not least. It had been my curiosity that proved stronger than a sense of obedience and deference at that moment.  
Now, with seemingly no danger surrounding the jar or the opening of it, and my curiosity very strong about finding out where Hope had gone, the jar proved to take next to no effort to open it. It was as if it had been waiting to be opened.  
I looked inside when I set the lid down. There was nothing in it, not as far as I could see, and it was a normal jar, inside and out.  
It was very plain actually. There were none of the usual decorations on it, such as paintings of the gods or their works. It was just a clay pot.  
I set it down, disappointed. I could feel nothing from it, and could sense no trace of Hope having been in it, or having left it.  
I walked out of the house miserably. As I walked out, I passed Epimetheus and Sophia. Apparently Anysia had not kept them away long enough.  
They seemed very shocked to see me there, and extremely awkward about the fact that they were clearly together. They tried to hide it by dropping each other's hands and stepping away from each other, but at the moment I couldn't really care less. I understood what had happened, and there wasn't a thing I could do to change it.  
They stared at me, open mouthed, as I passed them. Epimetheus seemed about to grab my arm, and Sophia seemed about to speak, but something held them back. I was glad for that. I had nothing to say to them.  
I walked back to Stormageddon, who was glaring at the pair of them. It was then that I realized I was still holding the jar. I looked at Stormageddon.  
"No hope, then?" he asked, seeing the look on my face. I shook my head. He bowed his.  
I dropped the useless pot on the ground. It tipped over on its side and rolled underneath the Pegasus. He raised his hoof to step on it and crush it once and for all when I noticed something on the bottom.  
"Wait!" I said, holding my hand up to stop him. He set his hoof down. I picked up the jar and looked at the bottom of it more closely.  
There, scrawled in the English that I had read in the library was a note. I grinned. I showed it to Stormageddon, and he whinnied.  
"Let's go," I said. I jumped on his back and we took off.


	14. The Sleeping Sickness

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Full Metal Alchemist, and any references to real people are only based on real experiences and should not be taken offensively. Read and review!

Chapter Thirteen  
The Sleeping Sickness

After Sean, Martha, and the Doctor had eaten their fill of pizza, and toasted the memory of the pizza delivery boy (although it was admittedly only Sean's memory of him), the Doctor and Martha said goodbye to Sean, and went off into the TARDIS.  
They were going as far into the earth's future as they could to look through as many historical documents as was possible. There would be a lot of newspaper and magazine articles to search through, but hopefully they would be able to find something.  
As Sean watched the TARDIS dematerialize in front of him, he had made sure the coordinates and date and time were correct in his vortex manipulator. Just as the last sounds of the time machine's engine faded away, Sean pressed the button on the vortex manipulator. Instantly, he felt himself dematerialize and rematerialize.  
He blinked. It was very bright in this new place, he thought. He looked around as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.  
"Well, if this isn't the middle of nowhere, I don't know what is," he said.  
He was standing on the side of a road, looking across it at a house that had a large metal barn and some farm equipment.  
He looked behind him. There was a big sign with the word "Thigpen" on it. It seemed to be a cattle farm. There were cows all over the Thigpen fields. There were a lot of fields, and they were very large.  
"I guess this is where the money is in this town," he muttered. He looked to his left to see the town proper, and started heading that way.  
A dog barked from the house, and he looked over. A young woman and presumably her boyfriend were coming out of the house. They walked to the man's white truck and the woman kissed him goodbye. The man got in and drove out of the driveway and headed towards the town.  
Sean watched the interaction, wishing he were with Martha right now. He could still feel her lips on his. He wasn't sure what it meant to her, but it certainly meant a lot to him. It was a feeling of trust. He didn't know of many people he could truly trust.  
He continued towards the town. There was a mini mart on the left side of the road where he was walking called "Daddy's". Sean shrugged and walked in.  
A man was at the counter. "You new around here?" said the man.  
Sean raised his eyebrows. Clearly only people that lived in this town came to this store. He nodded.  
"I'm just passing through, really," he said.  
The man nodded knowingly. "If you're looking for a place to eat, or stay for the night, you might try Marlin, about twelve miles that way," and he pointed back down the way Sean had come from. "Or you could head up to Waco," and he pointed north. "It's a bit farther," he said, "about thirty miles."  
Sean thanked the man and exited the store. He wasn't sure how he was going to learn anything from the people here. The teacher in the article had said that people seemed to be really lazy before the event had occurred. He didn't know when exactly it was going to happen. He decided to keep walking to the center of town.  
There was only one light in the town, and it was just flashing yellow.  
"Not much traffic, I guess," said Sean, shaking his head. He passed by the football field, which had what looked to be brand new turf.  
"It figures that a town like this gives out money to the football program like it's the only thing that exists," he said out loud.  
"Tell me about it," said a voice.  
Sean started. The voice was coming from the white truck that had pulled up next to him. He peered inside. It was the young man from the house. The man leaned over. "You need a lift somewhere, pal?"  
The man didn't talk like he was from here. Sean nodded. "Thanks," he said. This might be just the person to talk to about the town. He was someone that had an objective point of view or an outsider's perspective. He was wearing a Pokemon shirt. Sean didn't find it likely that this man was from here.  
"So where are you from?" asked the man.  
Sean struggled, trying to think of an answer. "I'm from out of town," he said.  
"How'd you get all the way out here?" the man asked. "More importantly, why would you want to come out here?"  
"Uhh," said Sean. "I guess I just needed some time away from home. I've been hitchhiking around, and the last guy that gave me a ride dropped me off back by the Thigpen sign." Sean looked over at the man. "What are you doing here? You're obviously not from around here."  
The man smirked. "Well, you're definitely right about that," he said. "I used to teach out here. I was just visiting my girlfriend over there," and he pointed back to the house. "This is where the job was. I'm glad to be out of that district though. Damn, those kids are lazy."  
Sean stared. This must be the teacher from the article. "Uh," he said, "what did you teach?  
"Band," said the guy. "Shit, here I am telling you all about myself, and I don't even know your name."  
"I'm Sean," said Sean.  
"Landon," said the man, offering his hand. Sean shook it. "Yeah, I was the band director here for a year. Didn't last the whole school year though. I couldn't deal with the complete apathy about things besides football, or sports in general. I tried to get interested in that stuff, just so I could relate, you know? And then I hoped that they would in turn get interested in music." He shrugged. "For some of them, I know I got through. But most were just in it because they couldn't draw." He looked over at Sean. "Their choice of elective, in middle school anyway, was band or art. And some of them weren't that good at either one. But at least some of them were passionate about it and wanted to get better. The rest just used it as social hour." He sighed. "Sorry, I know I'm rambling. The whole situation just pissed me off because the administration would never actually do anything about it because they didn't care any more than the kids did. And honestly, that is probably why the kids didn't care."  
He winced. "I'm ranting again, aren't I?"  
Sean laughed. "No, you're fine," he said. "I'm learning a lot about the town through your story. Is the whole town really like that?"  
Landon nodded. "Just about," he said. "Not all of the students actually live in the town, some live in Marlin, or Lott, or Rosebud, or another town up north whose name actually escapes me right now." He smiled. "But they seem to think that Chilton has the best school in the area." He sighed. "Unfortunately, they may be right, from what I've seen of the other places."  
"Would you say that the people around here are suffering from the deadly sin Sloth?" Sean asked tentatively.  
Landon looked at him curiously. "They're lazy, yeah, I wouldn't say that it's necessarily a sin though," he said. "I wish that they would get more work done, but it's their lives they're messing up, not mine." He looked concerned. "Out of curiosity, why do you ask?"  
"Well, I'm just worried that they might take it to the extreme if they're given the proper push," said Sean.  
"What would you consider extreme?" asked Landon. "Just not getting out of bed at all?"  
"Well," said Sean, "yeah, pretty much."  
Landon's eyes narrowed and his shoulders dropped. It wasn't as though he was angry or sad or both at the same time. It seemed just like something he did when he was confronted with a riddle, and this was a thinking posture for him. His brow furrowed, so that was probably the reason for the eye narrowing. Sean just hadn't noticed that part at first.  
"So you think," said Landon slowly, "that the people in this town will just not get out of bed for anything at all, including to shower or to get food or anything? Because they're being just plain lazy?" The sense of incredulity he said this was amazing.  
"Not just being plain lazy, not at all," said Sean. "Because they're going to be influenced by Sloth."  
"Uh huh," said Landon. "Why don't I just drop you off over by the school. You may find some people over there that are interested in talking about your crazy theory about a physical representation of a deadly sin, but I'm not one of them."  
He turned at the flashing yellow light and drove down the street. They passed a snack stand on the left, and then a church farther down on the right. Just beyond the church were a couple portable buildings, and the school just past them.  
"Here you go," said Landon. "Umm...good luck finding whatever it is you're looking for."  
"Thanks," said Sean. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's very worrying, and you'll know soon enough what I'm talking about if I don't find out what's going on."  
He got out of the truck and closed the door. Landon circled around in the parking lot and drove back the way he had come.  
Sean's shoulders sagged. The guy had been nice enough. It was just cynicism that plagued him. And that wasn't altogether too surprising, considering what he had gone through in the school district.  
Then Sean noticed something. He checked the day of the week that he had arrived on. It was a Monday during the school year. It wasn't a holiday of any kind that he was aware of. And yet there was something wrong with the town.  
He couldn't see anyone. He hadn't seen anyone besides Landon, his girlfriend, and the man in the store since he had arrived. Even the only vehicle he had seen had been Landon's truck.  
Sean frowned. They couldn't already be taken over. Otherwise the man in the store wouldn't have been there. He would have been asleep or just lying in bed at home.  
Maybe it could only affect an area two blocks square, he thought wryly. That's about how big this town is anyway.  
He decided to try the school anyway and see maybe what Landon had been talking about going on in there. There were a few cars in the parking lot, at least, so somebody might actually be there.  
He was about to knock on the glass door when he noticed the doorbell. He sat his head back on his neck skeptically. He wasn't sure something like that would really work in a place like this. He shrugged and pressed it anyway. Nothing happened.  
Maybe it just rang inside the office and someone had to come and let you in. Sean pressed it again for good measure and waited. About five minutes went by and nothing happened. He leaned up against the door and peered inside. The lights were all on inside, but he couldn't really see any movement. He saw a library straight ahead, and there seemed to be a woman sitting down behind a desk in there. He couldn't really tell because there were a lot of trophies along the glass wall inside the library.  
He knocked loudly. The woman in the library didn't move. She may have not heard, as there were a lot of walls in between her and the outside door. He was about to knock again when a woman came out of the office to the door.  
She opened the inner door and then came to the outer door to open it.  
When she did, Sean said, "I'm not sure the doorbell works, cause I rang it a couple times, and nobody answered."  
"Yeah, we've had it looked at and supposedly fixed a couple of times," said the woman, "but for some reason it never actually stays fixed. We think the kids mess with it too much." She shrugged. "Now, how can I help you?"  
Sean froze. He hadn't thought about what he would say when he talked to someone from here. "Uhh," he said, thinking quickly, "I'm conducting a survey of the surrounding schools to see what kind of work ethic rural students have versus the work ethic of suburban, and then urban, students."  
The woman looked taken aback. "Well, that would certainly get some publicity for our school, I suppose," she said. "And maybe some funding as well." She stepped aside and held the door for him. "Come on in and have a seat in the office and we can chat a bit."  
Sean smiled at her, and walked into the building. On his right was the administrative office, and on his left was the secondary office, which the woman had come out of. He followed her into this office, past a desk where a nice-looking black woman sat, and turned the corner left into the woman's office. He took a seat next to the door.  
Then he froze. He didn't have a pen and paper to take notes with. That would seem very suspicious for a journalist or survey taker. Then he had an idea.  
"Do you mind if I record this interview?" he asked the woman, and pointed at the vortex manipulator. "It's so I can go back and review everything later if I need to. Lets me focus on you and your answers, rather than writing them all down."  
"Sure," said the woman. "Go right ahead."  
Sean pressed an innocuous button on the manipulator and then smiled up at the woman. "Okay, can you just start by telling me your name and what you do for the school district?"  
The woman smiled. "I'm Becky Bobo, and I'm the counselor for the secondary campus, which means I handle scheduling, student transcripts, and a lot of issues we may have with parents. I'm also the cheerleading coach."  
Sean nodded. He was skeptical about how effective she would be as a coach, since the woman was rather heavyset, but he figured she was the only one that they probably had for the job.  
"And," he continued, "do you have children in the district?"  
Ms. Bobo nodded. "Yes, my daughter is a sophomore. And she's cheerleading captain," she added a bit too proudly. It was more smug than anything. "My oldest son is a second grade teacher at the elementary campus, and my other son just graduated last year."  
"Where is he at now?" asked Sean.  
"Oh, he goes to Tarleton," said Ms. Bobo. "He's studying to be an actor."  
"Did he act in plays at the school here?" asked Sean.  
She nodded. "He played a great John Barrymore in our one act play last year. It was I Hate Hamlet."  
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is this interview just going to be about my kids?" she asked. "I thought this was a survey about the work ethic of all of the kids."  
Sean nodded. "It's just a couple of preliminary questions, that's all. After all, you know your children better than you know the others." He smiled. "About what percentage of Chilton graduates go on to college?"  
She thought for a moment. "Well, a lot of them kind of stick around here, to help their families. Not many go very far for college, I know that much. Hmm." She twirled her hair a bit. "I'd say probably about seventy percent of our kids go on to college after they graduate."  
"Do you have any idea how many of them end earning a degree?" asked Sean.  
She shook her head. "A lot of them, if they end up earning a degree, get as far from here as they can. This is sometimes considered a dead end town."  
Sean cocked his head to the side. "How do you mean?" he asked.  
"Well, if someone moves here for a job, such as teaching, they usually leave within one or two years, or they never leave and settle down here. Then their families just stay here." She shrugged. "I'm not saying that staying here is a bad thing. After all, I live just up the road, and my family is turning out fine."  
Sean frowned inwardly. This woman loved to talk about how good her family was.  
"What's the passing rate for the state standardized tests?" asked Sean.  
She thought for a moment. "Well, that's hard to say, because they keep switching up the test. We used to have the TAAS, which is the Texas Assessment of Aptitude and Skills, which ended about ten years ago. Then we had the TAKS, which is the Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills. Now we're phasing from the TAKS into the STAAR. I can't remember at the moment what that stands for."  
"And what's the passing rate for your students of, say, the TAKS?" asked Sean patiently. Inwardly, he was tapping his foot. This woman was avoiding the question.  
"I'd say maybe seventy percent, probably," she said. He knew she wasn't actually lying, and if she was, he could easily look up that data online. He wasn't going to, of course, because he didn't really care about that, nor did he have the time or patience for it. He just knew that he could if he wanted to.  
"Okay," said Sean. "And, off the record," he said, pressing the innocuous button on the vortex manipulator again so she would speak openly, "what would be your personal opinion of the work ethic of students in this district?"  
She sat there for a moment looking at him. He hoped he hadn't offended her. She took off her glasses and sat forward. She glanced out the door. "Do you mind closing that?" she said. He obliged and shut the door.  
She placed her elbows on her desk and looked him straight in the eye. "In all honesty, a lot of the kids here are little shits," she said. "They're lazy, and they really don't get their work done, even with their ability to play sports on the line, because the coaches are on us to pass the kids no matter what." She sat back. "And the secretary and the librarian's kids are the worst. They are seriously probably the worst behaved kids I've ever seen. Especially the two that are in seventh grade together. They gave our band director hell last year. I don't blame him for leaving." She shrugged. "I suppose that's why we're a dead end town. Or at least one reason."  
"What does your husband do?" asked Sean.  
"He's the superintendent," she said with a sigh. "He doesn't really do much except approve or deny stuff. She leaned forward again. "I really am the one that runs this whole place. He's just so incompetent."  
"So he's a figurehead?" asked Sean.  
Ms. Bobo nodded. "Something like that," she said. "A bit like the president."  
"And you're Congress?" asked Sean with a slight smirk.  
She nodded. "And the judicial system is supposedly our principals, but nothing even really happens there. Parents come in and complain about their children being punished, like the secretary and the librarian, and the kids get off with a simple slap on the wrist. It's disgusting, but that's the way things work around here."  
"Why doesn't somebody come in and change it?" asked Sean.  
She shrugged. "Sometimes we'll get an idealistic new teacher come in, like our previous two band directors, and feel like they can be the ones to change the system and make it better. They really believe in what they're doing, but they truly don't understand how, simply put, bad the people are here."  
Sean nodded solemnly. "And why do you put up with it?" he asked.  
"Because I'm in a good place," she said simply. "I'm able to get what I want for my kids and my family. It's not my fault that other people suffer for what goes on."  
He frowned at her. "Wow," he said. "You are a perfect representation of our country's federal government. You are the epitome of what Congress is. As long as it doesn't affect you, you're fine with the rest of the community suffering. And I'm sure everyone around here resents and hates you for that attitude."  
She shrugged. "I can't change it, and I wouldn't want to if I could." She stood up. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she said with a sense of finality, "I have some idealistic teachers to hire and then fire within a year."  
Sean opened the door and exited with disgust. He turned and faced the woman. "You deserve what's coming to you," he said. "But God help me if I don't believe there is some good somewhere here. So I'm going to try to stop it." With that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the building, nodding at the secretary as he went.  
When he got outside, he decided he'd walk over to the church. Maybe there was something there that he could find to help him save this town. He couldn't and wouldn't believe that it was beyond saving.  
"I won't give up on them," he muttered. "I won't give up on them, even if they've given up on themselves."  
He walked past the portable buildings onto the street, and then towards the church he had passed in Landon's truck.  
Now that he got a better look at it, he groaned. It was a Baptist church. He knew that in a small town like this, it would be one of those black Baptist churches where there were no white people, simply because of natural segregation. And the reverend would be one of those fire and brimstone preachers, or one that said 'Amen' in question form at the end of everything he said. There would be a gospel choir that stepped back and forth to the rhythm of whatever they were singing, which was probably an old slave hymn.  
Sean didn't personally have anything against churches like that, but he knew that they probably wouldn't welcome someone like him. He was very obviously from suburban America. It was branded all over him, from his clothes to the way he walked and carried himself.  
He sighed and walked towards it anyway. It was worth a shot. He wasn't going to stereotype this place just because it was a Baptist church in a small rural town. That would just be another form of giving up, and he didn't want to give up on these people when everyone else had, including themselves.  
He tried the door on the left. It was locked. He went around the building and tried the other entrance. It was locked as well. He threw his hands in the air in frustration.  
There was another building directly next to the chapel, which he supposed was an annex. There was a walkway between the two buildings, with a door on either side of it. He opened this last door to the chapel. To his surprise and relief, it opened.  
He stepped in, and looked around. It was a small reception area, but nobody was sitting at the desk. He walked through into a long hallway and followed it down. There was a room directly on his right that looked to be for a youth group or something, with a whole bunch of comfortable chairs. He decided to visit that room when he had found something to read that might help him.  
He continued to walk down the hallway, and passed a few other rooms. The last room on the left before he turned a corner had a few book shelves in it, with hundreds of books on them. He shrugged and entered the room. He searched among the titles, looking for something that might help him find out more about the seven deadly sins, and sloth in particular. He chuckled to himself when he saw a children's picture bible that he had had a copy of when he was younger. He picked up and thumbed through it, looking at the pictures and stories he remembered. He set it down. He wasn't going to find anything terribly helpful about the homunculi in here.  
He continued looking and found a book called Seven. It reminded him of that Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman movie, but the title didn't have the number seven in the middle in the place of the v, like the movie Se7en did.  
He frowned. A lot of movies liked to do that kind of thing, like Numb3rs. It annoyed him. They thought they were being clever, and it was kind of cool at first, but then too many movies and TV shows did it and it got old really quickly.  
Se7en had been a really good movie though, and very disturbing.  
"Kevin Spacey could be of some use in my quest right now," he muttered to himself as he paged through the book he had found.  
He looked around for something else that might be useful, and collected a couple more to take back to the room with the comfortable chairs and couches. He took them over there and stretched out on one of the couches. He set the first book up on his stomach and started to read.  
It wasn't long before he started feeling very tired. It wasn't necessarily that he was sleepy, but more of the feeling that he was expending too much energy. It was just too much work to hold up the book and turn each page and read it. He set it down and just lied on the couch for a while. He closed his eyes.  
Then he snapped them open and sat up quickly. "No!" he cried. He knew that Sloth was now influencing him, and had started to take effect. He got up slowly. It was so hard, but he managed it. He exited the church, carrying the one book with him.  
It seemed to take ages before he got to the road by the church, and longer still before he got to the main road that led out of town. He staggered back towards the general store that he had entered earlier, and after a little bit, he started to feel better. By the time he passed the football field, he was feeling just like normal, though very sweaty.  
He entered the store and blessed the person who had invented air conditioning and fans that sat right above doors.  
"You again, huh?" said the man behind the counter.  
He nodded. "Can I get something to drink?" he asked, peeling a couple of bills out of his pocket and placing them on the counter in front of him.  
The man took the bills and looked at them carefully, as though looking for a counterfeit. He put them in the register and said, "What'll you have?"  
"Just anything," said Sean. "A Coke."  
The man nodded and went into the back. He came out with a bottle of Coca Cola and handed it to Sean.  
"Thanks," he said.  
"Pleasure," said the man. "You want your change?"  
Sean shook his head. He popped the bottle open and let the liquid go down his throat. It burned on the way down, but it was a cold, good burn.  
Suddenly, Sean and the man at the counter heard an earsplitting scream from outside, followed by a squealing of tires, and finally a massive crash.  
They looked at each other for a moment, then Sean dropped the coke bottle on the ground and the two of them simultaneously sprinted out of the store.  
The scene that they observed before them was devastating. A truck, an eighteen wheeler, had apparently drifted into the lane on the opposite side of the road and plowed into a head on collision with an SUV. The truck was hauling cattle, and all of the cows had their heads or hooves sticking out of the holes in the side, and some of them had lost those. The gore spread out over the road for about fifty yards.  
Sean rushed to where the cab of the truck had hit the SUV. He didn't know what he could do. It seemed like the SUV had been completely crushed. There wasn't much of a chance for survivors in there, but he checked anyway.  
"Is everyone okay in there?" he called out.  
After a moment, a small voice said, "I can't move my feet. I'm stuck. Please help."  
The voice seemed unnaturally calm. Sean swore. The kid, whoever it was, was in shock.  
"Okay, kid, I'm going to try to get you out of there," he said. He looked around for something he could use as a lever or crowbar or something so he could pry what was left of the door open. As he worked, he spoke to the child.  
"Are your parents in there with you?" he asked.  
"They were," said the child. "But they're not moving. There's a lot of blood." There was a small sniff. "Do you think they're dead?"  
Sean froze. He didn't know how to deal with this. He needed to call an ambulance, the police, something. He looked around for the man who ran the store. He was nowhere to be seen. Then he came out of the store with a cell phone.  
"Yeah, it was a major accident," the man said. "A head on collision, it looks like." He mouthed "nine one one" to Sean. "Yeah," he said on the phone. "We're on highway seven in Chilton, Texas. My name is Landrum. I run a store here, and a customer was inside, and we both heard a crash. We ran outside, and this eighteen wheeler had slammed into this SUV." There was a pause. "Okay. Thank you." He hung up and walked over to Sean.  
"They're sending an ambulance, the fire department, the whole nine yards over," he said. "Did you check for survivors?"  
Sean nodded. "There's a kid that's still alive in the SUV, but he's stuck. I think his parents are dead."  
"What about the truck driver?" asked Landrum.  
Sean shook his head and shrugged. "I haven't checked yet," he said. "I figured the SUV was the priority. I'm surprised the kid's alive, to be honest. I think he's in shock though." He bit his lip. "He asked if his parents were dead. I don't know what to say to him."  
Landrum put a hand on Sean's shoulder. "You go see about the truck driver," he said reassuringly. "I'll check on the kid and see if I can calm him down."  
Sean nodded. He thought he was going to be sick, but he figured the least he could do was help out the best that he could.  
He climbed up to the passenger side door of the truck. It wasn't too terribly damaged, which wasn't surprising. He slipped a little on the blood that had splattered forward from the cattle. He peered in the window.  
He could see the driver slumped forward in his seat, still buckled in. His head was lying on the steering wheel. His eyes were open, and he was breathing. Sean thought maybe he was in shock too.  
"Hey, mister!" he shouted through the window, which was fortunately still open. "Are you all right?"  
The man didn't respond. He just blinked a little.  
Sean looked around the cab of the truck from where he was, but he couldn't see any blood or any evidence of an injury at all. He pulled up the lock on the passenger side door and opened it. He climbed in and gently shook the man's arm, which hung loosely by his side.  
"Are you all right?" he asked again tentatively. The man didn't move.  
After a moment, he said, "Too... much... work..."  
Sean blinked. He wasn't sure what to make of it at first. Then it hit him.  
"Shit," he said. It was obvious what had happened. The truck had been driving through the town on his way towards Marlin, the town to the east. Sloth had been evoking his influence on the town at the time, as proven by Sean's strenuous efforts to leave the town. The truck driver had clearly caught a blast of the effect that Sloth was creating. Now at least two people were dead from the accident that had occurred because the truck driver had simply stopped driving. His foot, of course, would have just settled down onto the gas pedal when he had stopped keeping it up. The truck had drifted, and the SUV couldn't get out of the way in time.  
Sean swore again. He had no idea how to fight this without being taken over by the effects himself. He doubted all the Red Bull in the world would have given him enough energy to resist Sloth's effects for long.  
He got out of the truck and walked over to where Landrum was standing. On the way, he tried to think of what to say. The truth obviously wouldn't do. So he decided to bend it a little.  
"The truck driver seems to be okay," he said. "But he's in shock. He's not moving. I think he may have fallen asleep at the wheel, and the crash woke him up."  
Landrum nodded, a fire in his eyes. "These truck drivers really do need to get their sleep at night, not while they're driving." He gestured to the carnage. "Look at this," he said ferociously. "This could have all been avoided if he would just get his sleep at night."  
Sean shook his head and sighed in agreement. He glanced at the SUV. "How's the kid?" he asked tentatively.  
Landrum shook his head. "I don't think the kid understood how badly he was hurt. When I got the door open, I saw that he was sitting fairly comfortably in the back seat, but a big piece of metal was sticking right through him, right below his chest." He grimaced. "It was holding his body together. He died while I watched." He looked back at the SUV. "I couldn't keep the door open after that. You never forget a thing like that, you know?"  
Sean nodded. "I know what you mean," he said.  
They heard sirens coming. Landrum walked down the road in the direction they were coming from. They were coming from Marlin. He waved his arms, as if they could see him. Sean used the opportunity to program his coordinates into the vortex manipulator.

It was too late to save this town now. He didn't have any way to fight Sloth, and by now, everyone in town had probably just given up doing anything.  
He glanced at the eighteen wheeler. The truck driver still wasn't moving, except blinking very slowly, as though each blink took a huge effort.  
"I'll come back," Sean whispered to himself. "I'll come back when I find Hope, and I'll fix this. I'll make sure this doesn't happen."  
He pressed the button. In a flash he was gone.  
Landrum turned around at the flash. At that moment, the emergency vehicles came over the hill into view. Landrum blinked.  
His customer had gone. "Shit," said Landrum.


	15. The Selfishness of Greed

Disclaimer: I still don't own DW, nor do I own FMA. I'm not quite creative enough to come up with those characters. I just use them for my own purposes and plots.

Here lies the penultimate chapter of this volume. Read and review please!

Chapter Fourteen  
The Selfishness of Greed

"So you're positive that Greed left that note underneath the jar?" I asked Stormageddon as we flew towards the place the note had said to go.  
He snorted impatiently. "Who else could have left it?" he asked. "Your ex husband?"  
I snorted derisively. "Not likely," I said. "And it's not in Sophia's handwriting."  
"Besides," said Stormageddon, "you swore up and down that the writing wasn't there when you first found the jar."  
I nodded. "So you think he was nearby and invisible when he wrote it?"  
Stormageddon bucked his head. "Of course," he said. "It's the only thing that makes sense."  
"Why couldn't Wrath or one of the other homunculi have written it?" I asked reasonably.  
Stormageddon let the air out of his lips, letting them flap against each other. "What motive would another of the homunculi have to contact us in this way?" he asked. "Greed is, in his very nature, greedy. He wants power for himself, and he doesn't want his fellows to share in it, even his so called master. No, Greed has become his own master, and will not be ordered around anymore. He will take what he wants, and if it just so happens to help us on the way, so be it.  
"And look at the handwriting itself. It couldn't be Wrath's, because his would be very harsh and uncontrolled. Gluttony's would be very sloppy. Sloth wouldn't have worked this hard to do anything. Lust's would be as shapely as she is. Pride's handwriting would be very snobbish and upper class. Envy's handwriting would be small and mean, just as he is. If you look closely, this handwriting is bold, but calculating and careful. The exact incarnation of Greed himself."  
I nodded. "I can see your point," I said. "So why exactly does he want to help us?"  
"I suppose we'll just find out when we get there," said Stormageddon.  
"Which is where, exactly?" I asked. "I didn't understand it. The directions, I mean. It all had to do with land formations, and it's described only as something could see it from the air."  
"Which is why it's perfectly easy for me to find," said Stormageddon smugly. "I can fly, you know."  
"Okay, so where is it?" I asked impatiently.  
"I don't know!" he said, a little too happily. "Isn't it wonderful? We're having a proper adventure now!"  
So we flew on, with Stormageddon staring at the ground below us every now and again, and adjusting his flight pattern as necessary to hold the course.  
After a while, I began to grow saddle sore. Saddle sore is a very odd phrase to use, considering that Stormageddon refused saddle, reins, and bit all three. In any case, his back was uncomfortable. I was getting more used to riding after so much of it, of course, but it still hurt.  
"Can we rest for a while?" I asked Stormageddon. "Your back bone is frightfully bumpy, and I can't really stay comfortable on you for too long."  
"You're not putting a saddle on me," he said, "and that's final."  
I sighed, feeling exasperated. "Fine," I said. "But can I at least put a blanket or something of the sort on you so it's not so blasted uncomfortable for me, and you're kept warm in the meantime?"  
Stormageddon thought this proposal over. "Yes, I suppose that will be all right," he said. "We'll get a blanket for me tomorrow."  
"Okay," I said. "Can we please rest for tonight though? I'm aching all over."  
"Very well," said Stormageddon in a defeated tone. "It's fortunate that Greed didn't specify a time that we had to be there. I imagine he assumed we would make our way there as swiftly as possible, or that we would be there eventually. Since he's immortal, he can wait for us as long as he needs to."  
We were spiraling down out of the sky towards a likely outcropping of rocks to make camp for the night.  
"Whoa!" I said. "What do you mean, immortal? Do you mean he can never die?"  
"Well, at the very least, he, along with the rest of the homunculi, can not be killed very easily," said the Pegasus. "And they can not die of old age. So he technically can wait for us indefinitely."  
I frowned as we came to a soft landing. I dismounted and looked at Stormageddon. "That complicates things quite a bit," I said. "Why did you not tell me this before?"  
Stormageddon kicked at the ground, looking a little ashamed of himself. "I did not think that it mattered that much," he said. "After all, you never said you wanted to kill them. I thought that the practical thing to do would be to simply trap them back in the vessel that they came from." He nodded at the jar I had set safely in a bag I had gotten from the market.  
"But," I said, "then there's still a chance that they can get out later on! That doesn't make sense! No," I said, turning away and crossing my arms. "It's better to be rid of them once and for all and finish this accursed business."  
"Be careful," warned Stormageddon.

"You're beginning to sound a bit like you're under the influence of one homunculus Wrath."  
I scoffed. "Don't worry," I said. "It's really me. I'm in control of myself, and I really hate the lot of them. Besides," I said gesturing around us, "how could he possibly be anywhere near here? Nobody knows that we're here except for us, and we don't even know exactly where 'here' is ourselves."  
Stormageddon snorted, and kicked at the ground again. "I was only saying," he said, "that you should not so quickly wish death on those who are your enemies. There are things that are much worse than death."  
I laughed. "Such as what?"  
"Eternal life," he said simply.  
I scoffed again. "You can not possibly be serious," I said. "What is so bad about eternal life, living forever?"  
He cast a dark look at me. "What could be worse?" he asked. "What could be worse than living forever and watching everyone you have ever cared about waste away and die on their own, and you can not follow them into the next life?"  
He kneeled on the ground with all four legs and folded his wings over his back. "When you have eternal life," he continued, "you see the world change before your eyes, and can do nothing to hinder that change. For whether it is for the good or for the bad, change is something that will never stop. The only constant is change, after all. The only thing that will never change is change itself."  
I sighed. "I wish you would not speak in riddles," I said.  
"I speak plainly, Pandora," said the Pegasus. "The world will change around you when you live forever, and you will grow hard and bitter with cynicism at the fact that everything has its time to go... except for you."  
I sat down next to him and looked at the ground at this. "So are you saying that Greed wants to die?" I asked. "That he's tired of living forever?"  
Stormageddon laughed. "Not at all," he said. "For someone like Greed, eternal life means eternal opportunity for power. As nations and kingdoms rise and fall, he will always be there, in the background, scheming against or for this or that ruler, as it suits him at the time." He looked at me seriously then. "I think he means to set himself up as the first true ruler of the entire world," he said, "and he means for you to be either his queen or his mistress."  
I sat back and stuck out my tongue in disgust. "I would sooner die myself!" I said.  
Stormageddon nodded. "Greed knows this," he said. "So he will try to persuade you by helping us in our quest. If he helps you, you will then owe him something, you see?"  
I nodded. "So how exactly does he intend to help us?" I asked.  
Stormageddon shook his head slowly. "I do not know," he said. "I imagine that we will find out tomorrow. For now, let us get some sleep. It will be a long day of flying ahead, if his instructions prove true."  
"Ugh," I said. "Do not mention flying to me. My rear end aches just to hear or think of it." Stormageddon laughed at this.

We awoke early the next morning and shared a few apples between us to break our fast. Then I mounted his back and we flew to the nearest village to barter for a blanket for his back.  
I went into the town by myself. We did not know how others would react to the presence of a Pegasus. The last encounter with other people had not been very encouraging. The people had come at us with farming tools. It would have seemed silly had the tools not been so sharp and very intent on killing Stormageddon and I.  
When I had the blanket, I went back out of the town where he was waiting. I draped it over his back and climbed on. I could instantly tell that it would be more comfortable than I had been before.  
"Does it feel all right?" I asked him.  
He bucked his head lightly. "Yes," he said. "This will do very nicely. And how does it fare for you?" He chuckled. "Does your rear end suffer less now?"  
I nodded. "Yes," I said. "Let us be off now. I want this business over as soon as possible."  
"As you command, my lady," mocked the winged horse. He spread them and pushed off the ground with his powerful legs. Three beats of his wings and we were back among the clouds. He was already scanning the terrain, looking for the landscape that Greed had described in the message.  
"Can you read the message again?" asked Stormageddon, shouting over the beating of his wings and the roar of the wind around us. There was actually no wind to speak of, except the wind created by our passage through the air. We were traveling rather fast, judging by the ground rolling past swiftly far below us.  
I took the jar out carefully and looked at the bottom. "You will pass over many ovals," I read, "and circles of green. Those are hills and trees, right?" I asked my companion.  
"Yes," he said, nodding without interrupting the rhythm of the beating of his wings. "Go on!"  
I looked back at the message. "You will pass over an expanse of water... let me see, we did that yesterday... ah, here we were last night, the garden of grey. And now where are we?" I looked carefully down over the side of my mount.  
I could see nothing but yellow now, as far as the horizon stretched. "It's a desert!" I cried. "He means for me to waste away and die of thirst in this... this... desert!"  
I thrust my fists out in the air in my frustration. Unfortunately, this made me begin to slip. I then realized that I had not tied the blanket around Stormageddon's middle as I should have. I grabbed desperately for his mane.  
It was too late. The blanket slipped off of his back, and me along with it.  
"AAAAHHH!" I screamed as I fell. I grasped at the blanket for something to hold on to, for all the good it would do me. I held it with both hands, and then, to my surprise, the wind picked up and the blanket opened in my hands.  
I had to redouble my grip so the blanket was not ripped away from me. Now it was above me, spread out completely, and I was floating gently down towards the ground below.  
I looked down and marveled at how far I had fallen in such a short time. I looked up and could see Stormageddon beating his wings towards me as quickly as he could. I sighed in relief, but kept a tight hold to the blanket, lest I let go and fall to my death on the sand below.  
As I dropped slowly down to the ground, Stormageddon was circling me.  
"Are you all right?" he asked, concern layered in his voice.  
"I... I think so," I said. I was still shaking a bit from the scare.  
"Just don't let go," he said.  
"Oh really?" I asked sarcastically. "Do you think? I was just about to scratch an itch I had!"  
"I'm serious," he said. "And don't look down."  
These, of course, were the wrong words to say. I looked down. The ground actually wasn't too far away, however, and it was slowly rising towards me. I tried to angle my arms in such a way that I headed towards the top of a sand dune. To my amazement, it worked, and I was heading for it.  
Suddenly, the wind picked up and I was blown backwards. I couldn't see where I was going. Then I hit something hard.  
The shock of it knocked my grip loose, and I watched in horror as the blanket slipped from my fingers. As I fell, I saw that I had smacked straight into Stormageddon, which caused me to fall.  
I fell for what seemed like a long time, but was probably only a few seconds. I adjusted myself to face down as I fell, and I tried to hit the side of the dune so I would roll down it, slowing my fall.  
I hit my target, but it knocked the wind out of me. I tumbled down to the bottom of the dune, and stared up, dazed.  
I brushed away the sand from my face and spat it out of my mouth. I blinked up and could see the Pegasus wheeling down towards me. He had grabbed the blanket in his teeth and was bringing it down to me.  
He landed unsteadily, clearly uncomfortable on the sand. He was more concerned about me though.  
"Are you hurt?" he asked.  
I checked myself all over. There didn't appear to be anything broken.  
"No," I said finally. "I have sand in places I don't want to think about, though."  
"Well, come on," he said. "Let's get to the place Greed wants to meet us. It's not too far from here, I believe. Do you still have the jar?"  
I froze. I looked around for the bag I had been keeping the jar in. It must have fallen off of my shoulder when I had fallen or during my roll in the sand. Then I spotted it halfway up the dune.  
"There!" I said, and started struggling up through the sand towards it.  
"Wait here and rest," said Stormageddon. "I'll get it."  
I sat down on the dune facing towards the valley below. I couldn't see anything but sand in any direction.  
"How much farther is it?" I called out to Stormageddon behind me.  
He came down towards me with the bag in his teeth. "Mffmm fhmmm msn," he mumbled.  
I stared. "What did you say?" I took the bag out of his mouth.  
He chewed on the air a bit, and said, "It's not far now. Check to see if the jar is okay."  
I opened the bag, and just by the feel of it in my hands I knew that something was wrong. I looked up at Stormageddon. "I don't think it survived the fall," I said. I held it open for him to see.  
He stared at me. "I can't see in there," he said. "It's dark."  
I rolled my eyes and stuck my hand inside. I pulled out a piece of the jar.  
"Is that proof enough for you that it didn't survive?" I asked. I pulled out another piece. "How about that?" I pulled out yet another piece. "Does that get the point across yet?"  
"All right, all right," he said, blowing air through his lips and making them flap. "You don't have to get snippy with me. I am trying to help, after all."  
I felt my frustration soften. "I know," I said. "I'm sorry." I stared at the pieces I had thrown to the ground in front of me. Already they were being covered in sand.  
"I just wish that it wasn't all for nothing," I said.  
"It may not be," said Stormageddon.  
"What do you mean?" I asked. "We can not exactly put all of the pieces back together and hope that they'll stick."  
"We do not have to," said the Pegasus. "We just need to find the piece or pieces that had the message on it or them."  
I stared at him. Of course, it was obvious.  
"But how will we capture the homunculi when we're actually able to? Or how are we going to transport Hope without a vessel once we find it?"  
"That's not the point," said Stormageddon. "Any vessel will do, really, for the homunculi."  
"And Hope?" I asked.  
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hope requires something a little bit more special to transport it around," he said.  
"What makes the vessel special?" I asked.  
"It must have the blessing of the gods," he replied.  
"So when we find Hope, we should have a box or something with us that has been blessed by the gods?"  
He nodded. "Now get on," he said, bucking his head toward his back. "We still have to meet Greed. We can worry about Hope later."  
I threw the blanket over Stormageddon's back, taking care to place it as evenly as possible, and resolving to barter for a rope in the next town that we saw so the blanket wouldn't slide off with me on top of it again. Stormageddon knelt down on his front legs, allowing me to climb onto him. I set my legs back behind his wings, securing my knees in the crook, but taking care not to put too much stress on him.  
He beat his wings and kicked off from the ground. Or at least he tried to kick off from the ground. His hooves actually just sank into the sand. "What happened?" I asked.  
He shook his head irritably. "The ground isn't stable enough to kick off from," he said. "If we want to take off, it is going to require me to make an extra effort with my wings." He started beating them. "Take care back there," he shouted behind him. "There may be a little wind picking up because of this."  
He wasn't lying. Sand was flying all around us, and I had to shut my eyes and mouth in order for it not to fly into me and choke me or blind me.  
After a minute or so of this, we discovered that without the power of his strong legs, we were not going to get off of the ground.  
"Now what?" I asked.  
"Now," he said, "we walk."  
I sighed. This was going to take a while.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality probably only ten minutes, we, that is, Stormageddon managed to descend the one dune that we were on and climb the adjacent one. We stood there at the peak of it and looked off into the distance.  
There was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see.  
"What now?" I asked. "The instructions," and I pulled out the piece of jar that I had managed to salvage that had the whole set of instructions on it, "give directions based on landmarks as seen from above. How on earth are we going to find the place in this desert?"  
Stormageddon seemed thoughtful for a moment. "I've been considering that the whole time I've been walking, in fact," he said. "I was able to take off before to get the bag for you, but then it was just me. You weren't on me."  
"What are you saying?" I asked, a little bit nervous now.  
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm only intending to fly up to get our bearings. We weren't over the desert for very long before you fell. If I'm able to pick out the direction to the coast, I should be able to get us there, and it will be easier to take off in the sand that is packed together."  
I nodded. "Okay," I said. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime while you're looking for the coast? That could take ages."  
"Try to burrow in the sand to keep cool," he said. "I have noticed several small animals doing that. Perhaps you could as well."  
I stared at the back of his head. "You must be kidding," I said. "I'm not a small animal. I can not burrow in sand. The sand would simply continue to fill in the hole at the same time I am digging it."  
"The only other option is to keep yourself out of the sun with the blanket. You do not want to burn in this heat," he said.  
I sighed. "Can we try one more time to take off together?" I asked. "Maybe we couldn't before because we were on the side of the dune, and sand was just going to slide underneath you." I gestured around. "Here, there's more leverage to kick off with."

He jerked his head a bit. "It is worth trying, at least," he said. "Be careful of the wind." He beat his wings several times, and I was pleased to feel the lift this time. He kicked down hard, and we lifted off the ground a bit. He angled his wings down so we would let gravity take us down, and give us a bit more lift when he flapped his wings again.  
In a few moments, we were soaring above the dunes again. "Ha ha!" I cried in exultation. "It worked!"  
Stormageddon whinnied. It was clear he was happy too. We rocketed up towards the clouds. I looked back at the jar shard.  
"It says to keep an eye out for the circle of blue and spots of green," I shouted over the wind.  
"Does it say how far from the coast line it is?" he shouted back.  
"No!" I replied. "We just have to fly around and hope for the best I suppose!"  
He wheeled around and I could see the coastline. It stretched out from horizon to horizon. I had had no idea a body of water could be so large.  
"It is amazing, isn't it?" he said. I nodded, too in awe to speak.  
He circled around and we started flying towards the south east. "Why are we going this way?" I asked him.  
"Why not?" he said. "Do you have a better option?"  
"No," I said, feeling a little mollified. "I just thought that if we're going to pick a direction to travel in, there should be a real reason for it."  
"And I have a real reason," he said. "Look there," and he nodded off into the distance in the direction we were flying.  
I squinted. "I can't see anything," I said.  
"There's an oasis that way," he said. "My eyesight must be better than yours. I suppose it has to be when the ground can be very far away from you." I detected a bit of a smirk in his voice. I ignored it.  
"Okay, what's an oasis?" I asked. "I've never heard that term."  
"I'm not surprised," he said. "Being from Greece, you wouldn't have encountered them very much."  
"But you're from Greece too," I protested.  
He chuckled. "I am a messenger of the gods, you know," he said. "They have sent me to parlay with the gods of the Romans, the Norse, and the Chinese, to name a few. I have been this way before, when they sent me to the Egyptians." He shuddered a little bit, despite the intense heat. "Osiris is not the nicest person to deal with," he said.  
"Who is Osiris?" I asked.  
He seemed to think about his reply for a moment. "Think about Hades," he said. "Then multiply the unsettling feeling you get around him by one thousand. That's not quite as much as Osiris makes me shiver."  
I sat back a little. I had never met Hades, but I had heard stories. Prometheus had encountered him before he had stolen the fire from Hephaestus. He had not been the same after that. At least, that was what Epimetheus had told me.  
I stopped my thoughts at that. I did not want to think about my former husband. It brought back bitter thoughts. Instead, I continued to scan the land in the distance for signs of this oasis. That reminded me of something.  
"You never told me what an oasis is," I said.  
He laughed at his own expense. "I apologize," he said. "I was caught up in my own thoughts and fears. An oasis is like a nice place in the desert. It has a pool of water, and palm trees with coconuts. The milk in the coconuts is worth a trip through the desert," he added with relish.  
"Okay," I said. "Now I know what to look for." I looked off in the distance, and at that moment, I could just make out some bits of green and brown, and blue right next to the ground. It was off to the right.  
"I see it!" I called out and pointed.  
Stormageddon shifted his head to see where I was pointing. "There is nothing there," he said. "I forgot to warn you of mirages. It is the heat of the desert playing tricks on your eyes. The oasis we seek is just ahead."  
"How do you know the heat is not playing tricks on your eyes as well?" I asked.  
"I told you," he said simply. "My eyesight is better than yours."  
My shoulders slumped. "Okay," I said. "Hurry up, it's hot."  
"Yes, your highness," he said sarcastically, and he beat his wings quickly to reach a higher altitude. His body was getting slick with sweat.  
"Do not wear yourself out," I said with concern.  
"I'm not," he said. "Once we reach a higher altitude, I can simply extend my wings and we can glide down there. It makes the flight much easier on both me and you in the end."  
I nodded, even though he could not see me. We reached the apex of a nearby cloud, and Stormageddon did exactly as he had said. We were soon dropping out of the sky at a tremendous speed, even though the dive was very shallow. The wind whipped at my face and blew my hair back. I let out a whoop of excitement.  
"This is wonderful!" I said. It seemed that I was beginning to enjoy flying.  
As we descended, I began to see what Stormageddon had been talking about. The mirage that I had seen to the right of us faded away, while another oasis began to appear to our left, and then also faded. It was not long before an oasis appeared in my vision in front of us, and grew clearer as we neared it.  
We circled it around it a few times to make sure that it was real, and that it was safe. We could see no creatures that looked dangerous nearby, so we landed next to the pond. I dismounted and knelt down at its shore. I cupped my hands and drank deeply.  
Stormageddon stepped to my side and stuck his head in the water. I heard massive swallowing sounds, and I giggled. The water was cool and clear. It tasted so good after being in the desert for what had seemed like hours.  
I sat back and looked at one of the trees. There were large brown coconuts the size of my head in it. I pointed at it. "Do you think you could fly up and knock some of those down?" I asked the winged horse.  
He looked up at it, then at me. He nodded. "It would be my pleasure," he said, and I swear he grinned.  
He walked over to the tree and faced away from it. I tilted my head, wondering what he was doing.  
He looked behind him, and seemed to be lining himself up. He cocked one of his back legs and then kicked out sharply. The tree jerked hard, but nothing fell.  
Stormageddon snorted. He drew back his leg and kicked out again. This time, four coconuts were jarred loose and fell around him. He looked very pleased with himself until one of them fell right onto his head with a sharp crack.  
I watched in horror as he looked stunned for a moment, then just fell over. I didn't realize that it had fallen that hard. I ran to him and inspected the bump that was already forming on his head, just behind his eyes.  
"Don't worry," said a voice. "He'll be all right. He's just been knocked unconscious." I looked up, and a man with a beard stood there.  
"Who are you?" I asked. "What have you done to Stormageddon?"  
The man laughed. "I just told you, he's knocked out," he said. "As for who I am," his smile grew and he bared his teeth, "I don't think I'll tell you right now. I want to learn more about you first."  
"You'll learn nothing from me until he's awake!" I said, pointing at the unconscious Pegasus and sounding braver than I felt.  
The man held up a finger and wagged it condescendingly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," he said. "We can't have him interrupting and interfering, can we?" he asked. "No, he will stay asleep until I learn what I need to know. He will not wake up if you take too long. Even in the oasis, the sun beats down."  
I looked up at the sun. He was telling the truth about that. It was still scorchingly hot, even in the shade. There was no way I was going to be able to drag Stormageddon's body to the pond by myself. I looked at the man.  
"What do you want to know?" I asked.  
The man smiled and opened his mouth to speak, but another voice interrupted him. This voice was more familiar.  
"You don't need to deal with her," said the voice. "She's meaningless. The Pegasus might be worth a bit of money if you care to sell his wings though."  
Greed slid from around a tree. He was grinning at me. "Long time no see," he said. But he wasn't talking to me. His words were directed at the strange man.  
"Indeed it has been a long time, Greed," said the man. "How long since I purged you and your fellows from my body?"  
Greed shrugged. "Time is meaningless, isn't it?" he said. "Especially to people like us."  
I was looking back and forth between the two of them. "Who is this, Greed?" I asked.  
He smirked. "This is, or was, my master," he said.  
"I still am," said the man, still smiling, but it now seemed frozen on his face.  
Greed shook his head. "Not anymore," he said, tucking his lips in as he shook his head. "I only listen to me now, and right now, me is saying that I should be helping them." He jerked his head in our direction. "I can use them to get power for myself. You would never let me get power on my own. So I severed the connection you have over me. Now I can do whatever I please." He grinned. "What do you think of that?"  
The man, Greed's former master, looked frightened for a moment, then recovered. "Do as you will," he said. "But you could have shared in the ultimate power that I will have when I am immortal. Without my help, you will never be immortal yourself. But that is your decision." The man inclined his head to Greed, and then turned to me.  
"Do not trust this one," he said to me. "He is only looking out for his own interests, whatever he may say to you."  
I scoffed. "His name is Greed," I said. "Do you think I don't know what he is? I don't care about him gaining power. I just want to be able to control myself. That is all I need."  
The man raised his eyebrows. "Good luck with that if you run into any of his friends," he said. He looked at a silver circle he kept on a chain. "Time for me to go though." He bowed to us, and walked around a tree.  
Greed ran after him, but came back around the tree empty handed.  
"He's gone," he said. "But no matter," he said with a smile. "We have business to discuss, you and I."


	16. Phantoms and Devils

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or its characters; I don't own FMA or its characters. Here is the final chapter in this installment. I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Please, please, please, review! I'm looking for constructive criticism so I can improve on my methods, and ways to edit things out to get published.

Chapter Fifteen  
Phantoms and Devils

Sean arrived back in his own house just in time to hear the now familiar whine and groan of the engines of the TARDIS. He looked outside his front window to see the time machine materializing on his front lawn. The Doctor and Martha rushed out of it and ran straight for the front door. Sean went to it and opened it quickly.  
The two of them rushed in and Sean closed the door behind them.  
"What is it, Doctor?" he asked. "Why are you in such a hurry?"  
"Well, Sean," said the Doctor. "Have a seat and I'll explain everything to you. No, don't sit down, it wastes too much time, which is something we do not have enough of at present."  
"What do you mean?" said Sean. "You have a time machine, and so do I," he said, pointing to the vortex manipulator still strapped to his wrist.  
"Don't interrupt," said the Doctor. "Events are now not as good as they could have been, and certainly far better than they will be if you continue to say silly things like that." He grabbed Sean by the shoulders and forced him into a chair. "Now sit down and listen. The homunculi have all converged on a specific point in time, along with their master. Well, all but one of them has gone there, the other one I have no idea about."  
"Which one?" asked Sean.  
"Greed," said Martha. "We have no idea of his whereabouts. There's been nothing registering as exceptionally greedy. Even Wall Street has been quiet."  
Sean was surprised at this. "So what happened?" he asked. "Why are you both back from the future? Did you find all incidences of them from the future?"  
"No," said the Doctor. "As it turns out, Martha was right. They can't go into the future from the point they entered the present; they can only enter history and alter it as they see fit. And now their master has summoned them all to a specific point in time. This point in time is fixed, but their master intends to alter it in such a way that the universe will be destroyed if events unfold as he wishes them to."  
Sean shook his head to clear it. "You're speaking gibberish, Doctor, I don't understand."  
"That wasn't gibberish," said the Doctor. "I do speak Gibberish though, along with Gobbledygook and Sindarin. Don't ask me to though, now that you've traveled inside the TARDIS, you're able to understand languages that normally would be foreign to you. In fact, I'm speaking Sindarin to you right now, you're just hearing it and your brain is processing it as English, which is the only language you really know."  
"Okay, fine, whatever," said Sean. "That explains why I was able to understand them in Austria when I visited Mozart and Salieri. What happens in this specific point in time if the homunculi manage to alter it?"  
"I told you, the universe will be destroyed," said the Doctor. "Pay attention."  
"Where are they?" asked Sean. "Wait, let me rephrase. Jesus, I'll have to get used to this. When are they?"  
Martha and the Doctor looked at each other and laughed at this.  
"What?" asked Sean. "What could possibly be funny at a time like this?"  
Martha looked back at him. "I asked the same thing on one of my first adventures with the Doctor," she explained. "He had a different face back then. We were visiting the Globe Theater and saw a production of Love's Labour's Won."  
Sean raised an eyebrow. "You mean Love's Labour's Lost," he corrected.  
"No, it was Love's Labour's Won," said the Doctor. "Old Will Shakespeare wrote a sequel. Martha even contributed a word at the end." He winked at Martha.  
"Now now, Doctor," she said, "that wasn't me, that was Jo."  
The Doctor grinned and waved his pointing finger at her.  
Sean was growing impatient. "When are they?" he asked again loudly.  
The Doctor turned to him. "They're in Bloomington, Indiana. The date is August the ninth at 5:30 pm. The place is Memorial Stadium at the University of Indiana."  
"A football stadium?" asked Sean. "What could be going on at a football stadium at the beginning of August? Are they interrupting practice or something?"  
The Doctor shook his head. "This is much more significant than an American football practice, Sean," he said. "The events of that night help to shape the world for ages to come. It is a night of Phantoms and Devils."  
Sean looked confused. "Is hell rising there or something? Is it Bald Mountain?"  
"You'll understand when we get there," said Martha. She looked at the Doctor curiously.  
"No," he said. "I don't think anybody played that piece that year." The Doctor looked at Sean. "Come along, Sean." He looked at the pair of them. "Smith and Jones," he said. "I love it!" He turned and exited the house and Martha and Sean followed him into the TARDIS.  
As the police box dematerialized, a woman eyed them from out of an upstairs window of the decimated house next door. Lucy Thompson knew she had to warn her husband.

The TARDIS appeared behind a series of trailers. The door opened up right into a fence.  
"I hate it when I do that," said the Doctor with a scowl. He turned the engines back on and made the TARDIS shift a bit spatially so the door would open in the walkway behind the trailers.  
He stepped out of the TARDIS with Sean and Martha following closely behind. "Welcome to the Drum Corps International World Championships!" he said with a massive smile and characteristic huge hand gesture.  
"What's drum corps?" asked Sean.  
"What's drum corps?" said the Doctor. "What do you mean, what's drum corps? It's… it's… well, tell him, Martha!"  
Martha gave the Doctor a look. He quieted down. She turned to Sean. "Drum corps is like professional marching band," she said as they stepped from behind the trailers, which turned out to be used for merchandise. "Different groups come from all across the world, but mainly just the United States, to compete against each other. There aren't any woodwinds, and no trombones, because those instruments just aren't practical for this level of intensity."  
Sean nodded. "I see that they have a big following," he said, pointing at the massive crowd that was milling about the merchandise area, eating nachos and buying patches and T-shirts.  
"Okay," said Martha. "We need to find the homunculi before they try what they're planning. Do either of you two feel anything?"  
The Doctor stared at her. "These sins are human concepts," he said. "I don't think they would work on Time Lords." He looked at Sean. "What about you?" he asked. "Do you feel anything?"  
Sean shook his head. "Just a great desire for some nachos. Do either of you want any?"  
"Ooh, yeah," said Martha. "I'd love some." Sean turned and started walking towards the concession stand. "Ooh, and a hot dog!" Martha called after him.  
"Bit peckish, aren't you?" asked the Doctor.  
"We're in America at a sporting event," she said with a shrug. "I'm just trying to live in the moment." She grinned at him.  
It was about fifteen minutes before Sean returned with three trays of nachos, three hot dogs, and three Cokes.  
"Here," he said, doling out the food and drinks to the other two.  
"What took you so long?" asked Martha a bit peevishly. "I'm starving!" She grabbed the nachos and started to shovel them into her mouth.  
"Whoa, ease up a little, Martha!" said the Doctor. "And Sean, you're going to choke!" Sean was at that moment shoving the whole hot dog into his mouth. "I'm a Doctor, you have to listen to me, both of you!"  
"We can't help it," said Martha between chips and trying not to spray cheese everywhere as she spoke. She took a sip of her Coke to wash the chips down a bit. "It must be Gluttony. They're already here!"  
The Doctor looked around, suddenly frightened. All around the trio, people were stuffing there faces and going back to the concession stands for more. It wouldn't be very long before the stands ran out of food at this rate.  
Sean swallowed his last chip and was sucking down the last of his drink. "Are you going to eat that?" he asked the Doctor, pointing to his hot dog. Without waiting for an answer, he picked it up and took a big bite out of it.  
Martha, in the meantime, had finished her food and moved on to the Doctor's nachos.  
The Doctor stared at them. "Look at you both!" he said. "You're being taken over completely and you don't even care!"  
"We do care," said Sean between mouthfuls (he had already finished the hot dog). "We just can't do anything about it really. We're trying to fight it (munch), but their will is just too strong."  
Once they had finished the food, Martha and Sean looked at each other with a different look. It was hunger, but of another kind. Without warning, they embraced each other, and it was if they were attempting to devour each other's faces.  
"Oh, no," said the Doctor. "Not Lust too?" He looked around. All over the place, people were embracing vigorously. Some had even begun to shed clothing. It was turning into a massive orgy. Then the Doctor heard a voice speak over the loudspeaker.  
"Receiving the silver medal, with a score of ninety eight; nine eight point zero," and the voice of Brandt Crocker paused for what seemed like an eternity, "the Blue Devils!"  
A roar instantly went up from the crowd. The Doctor could not tell if it was in joy that the Blue Devils had not won, or frustration that they had not won. It seemed to be a mixture of both.  
Then the tone of the roar changed, and he could now distinctly hear two different things in it. He listened carefully. Brandt Crocker continued.  
"Receiving the gold medal, with a score of ninety eight point oh two five, Phantom Regiment!"  
The last two words were completely drowned out. Now the Doctor knew what he was hearing from the two sets of roars from the crowd.  
On one side, there was Pride from the fans of Phantom Regiment.  
On the other side, there was Envy and Wrath from the fans of the Blue Devils.  
The Doctor ran out to the bleachers and looked onto the field.  
All of the corps that were lined up on the field for full retreat, including all of the drum majors, had simply fallen down. None of them were moving. Sloth had taken over them.  
"What has happened?" he cried. "It's all of them now, all except Greed!"  
He turned around and could see the stadium was in chaos. People were literally beating each other with programs, instruments, t shirts, and even empty nacho dishes.  
The Doctor climbed to the top of the stands, towards the press box. Brandt Crocker, at least, was still himself. He had to have been allowed to read the scores. Nothing else would have been sufficient for all of this to happen.  
The door to the press box was locked. He could hear smashes and crashes behind the door. He took out his sonic screwdriver and buzzed the lock so the door would open.  
He turned the handle and pushed. He instantly had to duck as a chair flew over his head. He rushed in and ducked and dodged between fighting corps directors, reporters, and announcers. Even Steve Rondinaro and Michael Cesario were literally at each other's throats.  
He eventually made it to the room that held Brandt Crocker. He buzzed the lock and opened the door, then buzzed the lock again to keep everyone else out.  
"Mr. Crocker!" he said, relieved to see the old announcer alone. "I'm Agent Smith, of Scotland Yard." He whipped out his psychic paper and showed it to the man.  
Brandt Crocker smiled. "Well, Doctor," he said. "I wondered when you would get here."  
The Doctor froze. "No," he said, the truth slowly dawning on him.  
Brandt's smile grew wider. "Oh, yes," he said, and his face slowly melted away into another countenance. This face was much more familiar to the Doctor. A beard appeared on him.  
The Doctor felt a bit of his own wrath building up inside of him. "I have not seen this face in so many lives," he said. "I regret to say that seeing it again does not bring me joy."  
The Master stood from his seat and took off the announcer's headphones. He bowed to the Doctor and peered into his eyes.  
"Yet you wear a face I do not recognize, Doctor," he said. "You are so old. You have seen my face change from this one as well, I see."  
The Doctor shifted uncomfortable under the Master's gaze. His own face, he knew, appeared young to humans.  
"Yes," said the Master. "The eyes are the window to the soul, as the humans so aptly put it. Your eyes have seen much since I last laid my eyes on you. And from what I can tell, they have seen much since you last laid eyes on the future me with the younger face." His eyes narrowed and he wrinkled his nose. "Why on earth I wore that ridiculous hoodie and the blonde hair, I have no idea."  
The Doctor did not laugh. "Why?" he asked. "Why Earth, again? This planet has suffered enough from you in the past and the future, both yours and mine."  
The Master spread his arms. "The Time Lords stole away the last of my regenerations," he said. "I needed to remain immortal. So I became pure. I removed all of those emotions that plague human and Time Lord kind."  
The Doctor's brow furrowed. "But I haven't been affected by them," he said. "The homunculi have had no affect whatsoever on me."  
"Because I did not wish for them to," said the Master. "I can not have my greatest enemy think himself anything other than the greatest of anything." His smile grew. "And that's where you're wrong as well," he said. "There is one of them that I allowed to influence you." He raised his hand, and Pride opened the door which the Doctor had thought he had locked.  
"You have such a hero complex," said the Master. "I had Pride here take advantage of it. That way, I could shatter it when you finally realized that you can not do anything to save anybody."  
All of a sudden, the Doctor heard complete silence. He looked out of the window and saw that all of the fighting had stopped. He saw lots of blood. He turned his head away.  
The other homunculi joined Pride inside the box with the Master and the Doctor.  
"Where is Greed?" asked the Doctor.  
The Master stiffened. "Greed has chosen not to share power over the world with me as his fellows will share," he said, and gestured to the homunculi. "He will suffer, in due course."  
At that moment, Sean and Martha rushed into the room. Both of them looked distinctly disheveled, and they were adjusting their clothes as they ran. They were conspicuously avoiding looking at each other. Sean's gaze fell first on the Master.  
"Mr. Thompson!" he cried. "What are you doing here? The last I saw, you and your wife were being taken away from your house by the government after that huge explosion that blew up half the house!"  
The Master/ Mr. Thompson smiled indulgently. "Hello, Sean," he said. "The Mrs. and I had to vacate that residence. I could not allow myself to fall under the influence and be taken over by my latest experiment." He motioned to the homunculi. "These were the result of that explosion. I left so that they could be by themselves until the time came where I could control them, rather than the other way around."  
"What are you saying?" asked Sean, suspicion creeping into his voice.  
"Oh good Lord, Doctor," said the Master. "Why must you always pick up the stupid ones?"  
Martha's eyes narrowed. "Doctor, tell me. Who is this? How does he know you?"  
The Doctor sighed. "You know him, Martha, though not with this face. And he does not know you yet."  
Martha's eyes widened. "No," she said. "It can't be. You're joking." She glanced at the Master, then walked up to the Doctor and shook him by the shoulders. "Tell me that he's not who I think he is."  
The Doctor looked into her eyes, and Sean saw a different man in those eyes for a moment, hundreds of years younger, though still incredibly old.  
"He is, Martha," said the Doctor. "That is the Master, as I knew him in lives past."  
"So you're Martha Jones?" asked the Master. "Yes, my friends here have told me a fair amount about you. How is Mr. Mickey Smith?"  
"Don't you go anywhere near him!" cried Martha, lashing out suddenly.  
The Master looked back at Sean. "I am their master," he said, pointing to the homunculi. "I am the Master, soon to be of Earth. And there really is not a thing that any of you can do to stop me." He smiled. "I'll let you three get away for now. That way, you can watch the world that you love fall into utter chaos and be powerless to stop it." He looked at the Doctor. "How does that go, as ego-shatterings are concerned, Doctor?" he asked with a sneer. He laughed. It was a cruel one.  
"Come on," said the Doctor, taking both Sean and Martha, who were still staring at the Master with awe and hatred respectively, by the shoulder and escorted them out of the box. "We have to leave before he lets them loose again. It all starts here."  
"What starts here?" asked Sean, as they descended the stairs.  
"The end of the universe," said the Doctor. "How many times have I saved it only for it to be destroyed now, I wonder?"  
"Don't worry, Doctor," said Martha. "It can still be saved. We just have to have faith, right?"  
The Doctor shook his head. "No," he said. "Faith will do us no good now." He looked at Sean. "We need Hope." He hung his head and walked ahead of them.  
Sean stopped for a moment, trying to process the Doctor's words. He couldn't think right now. Too many things had happened all at once. It was all too much information for his brain to process.  
Martha stopped ahead of him and looked back. "Are you coming?" she asked.  
He looked at her. "No," he said. "I can't. He's right," he said, nodding in the Doctor's direction, whose back was receding around the corner of the trailers. "We need Hope, and I have to go find it. I don't know how or where I'm going to find it, but somehow I have got to try and find a way to find it."  
"Do you even know where to start looking?" asked Martha.  
Sean shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea," he said. "Maybe I'll start with Greed. He seems to have the right idea by opposing this Master character. I don't want to give up hope, if you'll pardon the pun, just yet." He stepped forward to her. "And I need you to make sure that the Doctor doesn't give up hope just yet either. Tell him I'm going to find it, no matter what it takes." He put a hand on her cheek. "I will find it." These words were more for her sake than the Doctor's. He tried to tell her that with his eyes.  
"Don't you give up hope either," he said. He closed his eyes and leaned in. He kissed her tenderly. Then he could feel a tug in his body that did not belong to him. Her tongue ran over his bottom lip, begging entry. He pulled away sharply.  
"No," he said. "Look around." He pointed, and people around them were beginning to embrace each other again. "This is the perfect place for all of this to happen, isn't it?" he said. "All of the emotions running high after traveling around the country for three months, they need to let it out. And the Master is giving them that outlet. They feel that they need this right now." He stopped talking and listened to the battle that had resumed over their heads in the bleachers. "And right now we can't do anything to stop them. You get to the TARDIS, now, before the Doctor leaves you. I'm going to try to find Greed."  
He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. She tried to kiss his lips, but he pulled away and quickly input the coordinates for his own time into the vortex manipulator. He looked at her one last time before he hit the button.  
Martha Jones watched Sean dematerialize in front of her, and then tore her gaze away from the spot he had disappeared and ran for the trailers.  
She rounded the corner behind them, and could see the TARDIS begin its takeoff sequence. She ran for the doors, which fortunately the Doctor had left open. She dove in just as the time machine faded from view. The doors closed behind her.  
The Doctor looked at her lying on the floor. His brow furrowed. He looked very old in that moment. "Sean isn't coming, is he?" he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. She shook her head.  
The Doctor went to sit down. "So he has given up hope that we will find Hope, then. I feared that would happen. I should not have put so much pressure on him."  
Martha knelt down next to him. "It's not your fault, Doctor," she said with a smile. "Sean has gone to seek out hope himself! And he said that you and I should not give up hope either." She stood up. "Now get out of that chair, you," she said, and held out her hand. "We've got a universe to save!"  
He looked at her, a twinkle appearing in his eye. "Just like old times?" he asked. She nodded with a beaming smile. He grinned, and took her hand.  
"Let's go, then!" he said, and ran to the console. He shot Martha a smile. "Allons-y!" he said, hitting a lever, and they went towards the future - and Hope.

TO BE CONTINUED


End file.
